Firestorm
by Homer
Summary: The 5th Doctor, Tegan and Turlough must deal with life, death retribution, time paradoxes and the Chicago Fire in an adventure that takes places between The Five Doctors and Warrior From the Deep
1. Default Chapter

In a ship that existed outside the realms of time and space, a human woman sat amongst a strange gathering of aliens. And while there were other humans on the ship, most on her bridge crew consisted mostly of aliens. Some looked like humans, while others resembled human if only because they were bipedal in form.

The ship was called Discontinuity and her mission is ambiguous, to say the least. Built by a coalition of planets in the 61st Century (the human's time scale), its original intent has been swept along the winds of time. Well, that's a lie. There is a reason why the ship exists; its just no one really wants to hear the reason. And after nearly 30 years (the damn human time scale) and countless millions of years that have passed in the wink of an eye, why bother? You just do your job, and don't ask questions. Still though, every now and then, she would ask herself just what the hell she was doing commanding a Coalition time ship from the 61st Century, when she could even barely finish her taxes before they were due. And don't even mention the fact that she comes from the early 21st Century. On Earth, as it is in Heaven (she still could remember her early days as Catholic schoolgirl, running around in those hideous outfits).

How she came to be on the bridge of this ship is an interesting story, if an interesting story is what you want to hear. And, of course, you do. But before we get to her story, let us explain why we are all here at this point in time. 

Time, as they say is relative. And time can be fleeting and it does fly when you're having

fun. But what if you could use time for your benefit, instead of it being against you? What if you could travel the time winds and change your past, your future, or your present? How about some else's future? 

At the start of the millenium, it became apparent that many new species where acquiring time travel capabilities. It was like it was on sale, and you could walk down to the corner market and buy it from a little old foreigner (alien, if you like). And like children with a new toy, a lot of these races did not play well with others. Most tried to alter their own history, if only to prevent wars, plagues and enemies from stabbing you in your own congress. The only problem (okay, the many millions of problems) with doing that, is it reeks havoc across the cosmos. To use a tried and true analogy, it literally was like throwing a rock in a stream. The countercurrents, the eddies, the course that is caused by such a toss has clear and true ability to really screw up not just the place they wanted altered, but other places, such as planets and the star systems they existed in.

So, tired of all the time foolery, many planets and many people, to put an end, or try to control the timelines formed a Coalition. It was commonly called the CIA, or the Celestial Intervention Agency. The Time Lords of Gallifrey were the creators and charter members of this Coalition. And in the 61st Century, the captain of the legendary, but super secret time ship, was an Earth woman from its 20th Century. Which no one knew. Though, some did know. But, who would put such a sophisticated ship in the hands of a human? 

Well, no one really. But the did, anyway. Here's how it happened, folks

Abducted at the age of 20 in 1996 by the Conbronbi of Xos tenn, she spent two years as an experiment in terror. She was probed in every part of her body, and spent days on end in pain as those probes tore through her flesh. The Conbronbi, for their part, never spoke to her, never looked at her as sentient being. To them, it appeared, she was a lab rat, an idea that needed to be looked at in every direction with every sort of horrible tool ones own nightmares could never come up with. 

Then it all ended when the Daleks wiped out the Conbronbi. Which surprised many, considering the Daleks were known for their experiments on lesser species. Maybe the Conbronbi were stepping on the Daleks own territory. Despite their claim of how emotions are a disease, the Daleks had always proven, with some of their actions, that they could be more emotional than humans. None the less, the Conbronbi were gone, and most of their lab rats had escaped in all the confusion. Kathleen Scully of Austin, Texas was able, with three other humans from Earth, to obtain a Conbronbi shuttle. And despite apprehension at first on how to fly the damn thing, they discovered how deceptively easy it really was. They left Xos tenn and headed into deep space.

Their flight from the horror, however, was short lived. They discovered that the Daleks had damaged the shuttle in the initial attack. They were able to proceed in hyperdrive for only a few hours before they returned to normal space. But fortune favored them, and they arrived in heavy populated quadrant. With some help from Kalatron Imperium, the doomed shuttle was brought to the Imperium's home world of Kalatron 7. The Imperium offered them a chance to either return home, or stay and travel the stars. Kathy, who was the most optimistic of the four, decided to stay. Her three other fellow humans were returned home. She spent over three years on Kalatron 7, living with the strangely humanoid creatures. To Kathy, they looked like humans' -bipedal, ten fingers, and ten toes. They were all multi-colored skinned, but they there was a predominate darkness in their skin. They resembled Africans, mixed with Hindi's. They had ridges on their foreheads, making Kathy think of some of the science fiction shows she used to watch on TV back home. But, all in all, they were the most peaceful race she had ever met (of course, that opinion was based on the two alien species that wanted to kill her, Conbronbi and the Daleks). They had survived wars, starvation, and alien invasions, and had come out of it with no cynicism or hatred. They accepted anyone and everyone who visited their world for commerce or whom decided they wanted to live there. 

After about the third year, a marriage and a child, Kathy became restless. She could not place her finger on why this feeling had crept into her like a thief in the night. But, she felt she had to leave, had to escape this feeling she was being drowned like a bag of unwanted kittens. Her husband understood her desire, which made her angry. She wanted him to protest, to yell, to cry, but he stood by her desire. He even told her to take their son. 

After another 6 months of wrestling with her feelings, she made the final resolve, and departed her adopted home with her son for travel amongst the stars. Which, of course, turned out not be as fun as she thought (or remembered from all those TV shows about space travel). The fun wore out like a great pair of jeans. Even her son, who seemed to growing like a weed, had noted that space travel was a boring as watching his father fix space cruisers. They did have a few adventures, outwitting a few Dalek Battlecruisers (Kathy had decided that those pepper top idiots would never really rule the comos as they spouted on about, mostly because they contained too much emotions -something they said was a weakness). But, in the final analysis, space travel was only fun when you landed on a new world; and there were large gaps of open space between systems. So, after about a year, she arrived on Marconton, a largely humanoid planet who belonged to the Galactic Federation, and a planet that was the crossroads to many civilized areas of space and gateway to the uncharted regions of the universe. Here she discovered her true calling as she ended up buying a bar/inn, of all things, and serving clientele from every parts of the known space. She enjoyed the conversations, and she absorbed all the stories that all these travelers told. This, oddly enough, seem to satisfy her wanderlust. 

She stayed on Marconton for the next 25 years, enjoying a profitable business and a new reputation as the best place to stay when crossing the great expanse of outer space. Her son, Drebel, grew up to be a handsome man who helped his mother run the business. He married a local girl, and fathered three children in quick order. They all worked together to make the Kathy's the best place to come to. Even her husband made an appearance, and Kathy re-discovered her passion for him. 

But things changed, as they always do. Tragedy struck when a freighter, carrying an illegal waste product, crashed into some structure near her tavern. Had she not been in another province checking up on a local supplier of wine, she would have been killed as instantly as her family. Survivors' guilt haunted her like a bad debt, and she just did not have the energy, or desire to start over. She was 55 years old, she told her friends and she had just lost everything that meant anything to her. Why should she start over? 

But fate had intervened again, just as it had 35 years earlier. A chance encounter with an alien who traveled in an old blue police box, and who called himself the Doctor, ignited her wanderlust. She traveled with the curly hair man, with the impossibly long scarf for a year. He had just left his homeworld after a battle with someone he called the Master. He was headed for Earth, would she like to come? She told him that she had been away from her planet for so long, that she really had no desire to return -all of her family assumed that she was dead, she reasoned. This Doctor seemed doubtful at first, but capitulated in the end. They had many adventures and saw many new aliens and visited many new worlds in many time periods -including Earth in 16th century and 61st. Intrigued by all the changes in Earth, she decided to stay on Earth. 

She became involved with the CIA by chance. For a human, they reasoned, she had shown some remarkable observations about the universe. She appeared to know a great deal, and had was showing a vibrant ability to put emotions aside and look at things logically. Which served the Time Lords well. Unlike the Doctor, his fellow Time Lords were as emotionless as a rock. Funny, she thought, the Daleks could learn something about these time travelers. 

So, she ended up as the commander of Discontinuity, whose mission was to catalogue the timelines. After centuries of trying to explain all the paradoxes of time travel, it was discovered that there was one main "highway" of time, designated as 0001. It was her job and the crew of Discontinuity to make sure that 0001 remained on course. But keeping track of the infinite number of timelines created, was not easy, so space and time of 0001 hasn't really existed for many centuries. So, ideally, it was to keep the time as close as possible. Timeline 109047 was the closest they had gotten, and even that was disastrous. The Daleks still existed, along with those lumbering metal mental morons, the Cybermen. Then there was the planet Earth, who for reasons unknown, was critical to everything that was unwinding in the universe. Even Kathy had begun to wonder how her planet fitted into the galactic tapestry. Even by the 61st Century, it was still in its infant stage, even though the planet was well over the teething level. Still, it was her job to stave off the destruction of the universe.

So here she sat, idly playing with the many buttons that made up her uniform. It was a sign to her crew that she was bored. They usually tried to correct that mood as quickly as possible. So, when Tevil found something unusual, he called to his Captain.

Tevil was a blue-skinned humanoid from Altairian 12, a mostly water planet on the far side of Quadrant 3. He was tall, and very handsome, for a blue-skinned man thought Kathy. His age was unknown, but his species aged very slowly, living as much as 2,000 years. Many had traveled to his home planet in search for the truth behind Altairian Fountain of Youth. If there was an explanation, his people had decided not to tell. As he danced his fingers over his console, Captain Kathy Scully looked over his shoulder. A peat smell rose into her nostrils. It was not unpleasant scent, as it reminded her of Earth, and how the air smelled after a spring thunderstorm. 

When she spoke, it was with the authority that all the crew respected and loved. "What's up, Tevil?"

The blue-skinned man swallowed, and brought up an image on his screen. "I had been tracing an odd disruption her on Timeline 23536."

"That's a fairly low number," Kathy said almost to herself. "What of it?"

"At first I thought it was nothing, a minor blip. Or even an error, considering all the problems we have been having with the main computers." 

Kathy stood up straight. The main computer, an Artificial Intelligent system that was an offshoot of the Time Lords Matrix, had seemed to be going through some changes of late. While it always had a personality of its own, based on pure logic and mathematical certainties, over the last few weeks it almost seemed to be depressed. 

She would've laughed at the concept, had she not seen for herself what was happening to the ship. And her conversations with it, for it had not only could you communicate with a keyboard, but also verbally was getting nowhere. It was caught in some sort of funk, she told the crew. Most did not get the meaning of the word funk, but assumed that it was not good. She sighed and asked him what he was tracking and where and when it was taking place.

"Earth," he said hesitatingly. He had been aware for some time that Earth was not a place she liked to talk about. He was only a few souls on board Discontinuity that knew she was from Earth. And he only knew that because her second in command, a shape shifting Navarino, was his husband. So when the subject of Earth came up, it usually brought on a bad mood for their Captain. Still, though, he went on. "I began to notice a few days ago, when I was tracking activity of a certain rogue Dalek ship that was attacking Earth in the early 21st Century. 

"I thought the Daleks first invasion was in the 22nd Century." The captain said.

"It was and still is. That was the curious thing about it, though. So I backtracked a few timelines earlier and discovered many small disruptions, but none that were leading up to this invasion in 2010 of your time."

She let that comment slip, for no one was in real hearing distance. Even Blotus, the helmsman with the magnificent hearing, was not present. "So, where's the great mystery then?"

Tevil moved his hands around the controls and spoke out to the computer, who for some reason was asking for a name now, instead of just Computer. But, none, the less, it responded when Tevil spoke.

"Working" came a metallic sounding voice. 

"Please bring up timeline 923536 and import over time line 109047." The computer screen went blank for a moment, before being replaced by two versions of two different timelines. Tevil pointed to the image in the left, which showed the corrupted timeline of 923536. "If I had more time (it was a pun that had started about the date she came on board, and while she hated it, the crew seemed to get an enjoyment out of using the phrase) and if the computer was acting normally, I think I could accurately give the exact time and place. However, since most of our resources are working on Timeline 20970456, I can only give you an estimate."

"That's better than nothing, but why all this work?" The crew had been enterprising on Timeline 20970456 for a few weeks, so there was not much time, so to speak, to work on personal matters. Besides, the CIA did not encourage individuality. But she wondered if this had something to do with the job on hand?

"Not really, but I've always been taught that when dealing with time, nothing is unusual." He licked his blue lips. 

She nodded and decided not to comment on his conclusions. "So, what do you want to do about this?"

Tevil frowned. "The problem is, that if we let this go, the Time Lords could be facing extinction."

It was time for Captain Scully to frown. "I beg your pardon?"

Like a worker who knows that he supposed to be working on what the team was, Tevil wanted to jump up and show what a little individuality can do. He had spoken out of turn, but he knew he had to say something. "If we let this current situation run its course, I predict the Time Lords will be greatly affected by this disruption."

Scully was intrigued, and leaned forward. Her eyes swept over the blue man, trying to read hi thoughts before he spoke. "How?"

Tevil brought up an image on his screen. "If this timeline is allowed to proceed with no manipulation on our part, the Time Lords planet of Gallifrey will be utterly destroyed by a race that will put even the Daleks to shame."

"Who?"

Tevil's frown deepened. "The computer and I are unsure who these creatures are. The best we can come up with, is that they are some sort biomatter creatures who use energy weapons based with temporal dark matter."

Captain Scully was not sure what to say. Over the years she has served on Discontinuity, she has seen many wondrous and frightening things. She trusted her staff, and assumed that Tevil knew what he was talking about. When she asked if there was something they could do without altering their current mission, her voice rang with the authority of her status as Captain, but also with a slight waver, indicating she was just going to have to let the blue Altairian try to solve this problem on his own.

Tevil sighed and requested the image of the Doctor. Kathy raised an eyebrow. "The Doctor?" she spoke with surprise. "You know he hates his fellow Time Lords. Besides, he also dislikes being manipulated by the CIA."

"All true, but what if we send him to earth at time after the disruption? Let him nose around a bit, until he catches on. He's always liked a good mystery."

"Your thinking like a human, Tevil, " She said, but it was not an insult to him. He liked humans in general. Even his husband kept the human shape. She had remembered the many adventures she had with the fourth Doctor. It was true, he loved a conundrum "Still, you might have a point. Which Doctor are you thinking of sending?"

Tevil rolled through the images. The current information they had on the Doctor, had him in his eighth incarnation, a strikingly handsome man who looked like a conglomerate of his past selves. Tevil rolled the images back to the fifth Doctor, whose broad smile and sensitivity was as charming as the fourth Doctors sporadic length of his scarf.

"I think this version of the Doctor will help us. At this juncture of his timeline, he has left Gallifrey after the incident with the Lord President and the Dark Tower, and before his encounter in Earth year 2084 with the Silurians."

"Why then?"

Tevil looked at his Captain. "It is a period of unrest for him. He knows his time in this incarnation is short, and he'll de distracted by the next handful adventures that will eventually cause him to regenerate. He'll be less likely to accuse us of manipulating his destiny, and just arrive at the thought that this was all part of the Web of Time. Besides, there is Adric."

Adric?

Scully racked her brains to remember. She was fully aware of the history of this Time Lord, (she never told them that she had traveled with him, and over the year they traveled together, he had taught her how to block her thoughts so the Time Lords could not read her mind) along with the other renegades of his planet. She liked him, despite what the High Counsel have said about him. She never favored using him, but there was time when his brilliance was needed. She tried to remember where she had heard her that name. After a few moments, it came to her. He was the boy who sacrificed himself to bring them closer to Timeline 0001. Like her, after the death of her family, guilt had been eating away at him. Maybe, this little sideline trip could resolve him of this culpability. 

She moved by to her command chair and sat down. "Do it, and I want a report on my desk by the end of your shift."

Tevil smiled, "Yes, Captain." He began his task.

Somewhere in time and space, Discontinuity continued its task.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

1

The full moon pasted a pastel sheen over the blue manifestation that stood in the trees. As Tegan Jovanka leaned against an old brick wall, her features hidden by the shadows of the branches, she looked out into the night. The air was thick with humidity, and she felt her blouse beginning to stick to her back. From her little hideaway, she heard the sound of traffic; music blared from open car windows. She saw few people, and guessed that it was late at night (she had not bothered to wear a watch for over a year now). Still, it was nice to be someplace warm for a change. But if it was late, the night, it seemed, was giving little relief from a summer heat.

Behind her, the coolness of the TARDIS doors beckoned her, yet she felt like exploring, despite the warmth. They had only recently arrived, and the Doctor, not in the most pleasant moods, didn't seem to notice that she had wandered off.

Leaning against the brick wall, Tegan reflected back on some of her recent adventures with the Time Lord. It was her impression that he had lost more than he gained since his regeneration way back when. But mostly, Tegan sensed that the loss of Adric was at the center of all his disappointments of late; it was an open wound, and a constant reminder to the Doctor that his meddling in other people's affairs was costing him. Even Turlough, who never seemed to care about no one but himself, was concerned. He even told the Doctor to jettison Adric's room, because leaving as is, was hurting everyone. Yet, the Doctor had said no; he wanted to keep the room, so he would be reminded of the consequences of his interference; what he was doing every time he jumped into another planets personal business. 

Things just appeared to be balancing out, when Nyssa decided she needed to stay on Terminus. The Doctor had argued with her. Yet, he knew deep down that her staying was keeping her alive. One day, he reflected to Tegan, he would return to see her. Just to say hello. 

Then his mood deepened like a winter sunset, it was like a thick veil of fog had covered his spirit. He continued that way until sometime after their departure from the freezing cold of 1215 England. Despite the fallout he had everytime he tangled with the Master, the Doctor's disposition lightened. He told his two companions of his plans to update the TARDIS console. He had just finished when he found himself the cornerstone of President Borusa's plan to take over the High Council permanently.

The betrayal of Borusa had shaken the Doctor's faith once more. For all his pomp and arrogance, Borusa kept the Time Lord centered. He still could remember the last time he was on Gallifrey, after the incident with Omega. Barusa was his old and blustery self. In hindsight, the Doctor was able to put the puzzle pieces together, and chided himself for not seeing the big picture. It wasn't until he had been with his otherselves, had he seen how naïve he had become. While he never considered himself omnipotent, somewhere deep in his conscious, there had to be place where he thought himself and his companion's untouchable. 

After their departure from the Black Tower, the TARDIS flew on, running smoothly. The fair haired Time Lord had wandered into the endless bowels of his ship. For a while, Tegan wondered if she was all alone. Still, he would pop in every now and then, mutter something to Tegan and Turlough, and disappear for days. On his last mood swing, he had vanished for nearly ten days.

Tegan wondered if the Time Lord would ever come to terms with himself. Everyone had a dark side, she considered, and maybe that was what bothered him; that he could never shake that darkness off. 

No matter where or when he went.

* * *

When he finally returned to the main control room his eyes were bright and his voice light, and in control. He asked Tegan were she wanted to go.

"To go?" she asked, her face a mixture of surprise, and confusion.

"Yes. Where would you like to visit? I think we've all been cooped up much to long in this old bucket. It's time, no pun intended, to venture out into the world." A smile swam over his face. "Or someone's world."

She wanted to shout, but felt that would be useless. She ran a hand through her hair. "Doctor, just a few weeks ago, you were moaning about screwing up the space/time continuum, altering the destiny of other people, and all that other stuff."

He winked at her, and turned to the six-sided console. "Yeah, well to quote another Doctor I know, 'what the hell'."

With that, he steered the TARDIS to where it sat now.

2

The Doctor stood pondering the TARDIS console. He stooped and starred at the buttons and knobs, looking like a child trying to figure which piece of candy he should take. He turned to Turlough, who stood to the left of him.

"This is most unusual", he said to the young man. Turlough, for his part, stood with his arms crossed, and a mild look of amusement on his lips. He raised an eyebrow and spoke with a soft accent that might have sounded British in origin. "Tell me what isn't".

The Doctor frowned. He brushed his long, pale fingers through his blond hair. "Well, for one thing, we've landed where I programmed it."

Turlough blinked, wondering if the Doctor was trying to humor him. Or make him look like a fool. But the Time Lord, if anything, had no sense of humor, so he guessed he was playing him for a fool. " Isn't that the purpose of setting coordinates? " His voice, however, did not betray his anger at being played the patsy.

"Yes, it is, " The Doctor said. He turned back to the six- sided console and stared at the time rotor, which blinked a colorful dance of lights. "It's just that we've arrived a little later than I planned." Turlough looked like he was about to say something, but he seemed to change his mind, and let the Time Lord talk. "It's odd, though. I was so sure that refitting the TARDIS after some many decades, and after the attack by the Cybermen, that I had finally worked all the bugs out."

"Bugs?" Turlough asked. 

The Doctor smiled slightly. "An Earth term." The red haired man nodded his head as if in a perception that he understood what the Doctor meant. Of course he didn't. The Time Lord moved around the console, checking readout on all screens. "That's one of the problems with these old type 40's."

"One of the problems?"

The Doctor ignored the comment. "The Time Rotors are very sensitive." He moved around the counsel, his arms moving like he was going to embrace it like a dancer. "This was what I was hoping to eliminate when I updated her. Yet, here we are. Again." The Doctor moved to a high back chair that Tegan had recently brought from one of the many storage areas on the TARDIS. She complained that the console room lacked any style, and had taken it upon her self to "liven up the place" as she put it. Of course, one chair did not a house make, yet it was different. He sat down, and his face seemed to shrink inward.

Turlough looked at the coordinates, not really knowing where they were. If only because he wasn't sure what system they were in. If he were a betting man, he would guess Earth. He turned to the Doctor. "Still, we are in the place you wanted to be, right?"

"Right place, wrong year." The Doctor stood up again, and looked at the computer screen. "We've arrived a little later than I wanted too."

"How much later?" Turlough asked, almost not wanting to know. The Time Lords track record of getting where he wanted to go was very suspect.

"About eighty years." The Doctor smiled slightly. "Still," he added "we are were I wanted us to be at."

"Then why worry if were a little late?" Turlough asked, moving to the chair the Doctor just got up from. "Isn't there an old terran saying that says better late than never?" He sat down, a look of complete endearment on his face.

The Doctor looked over at his young companion, trying to figure him out. Turlough had been traveling with him and Tegan for a short time, and the Time Lord was still unsure what really motivated the boy, but he did have a point. Yet, he felt uneasy, and he wondered why. He had originally planned to bring the two to Chicago in the 1920's were he secretly owned a speak-easy, a bar that was selling alcohol illegally. For Chicago in the twenties was the time of gangsters and prohibition. The Doctor felt Tegan would get a kick out of city during this legendary era. Yet, now that they arrived, eighty years later than he planned, he felt something was wrong. It was an uneasy he's felt many times before, and would again, but he hoped that this time he would be able to recognize the problem before things got out of hand.

"How can you know about that term, yet don't understand 'working the bugs out?'" the Doctor asked. Turlough looked at him, but said nothing. That was why, at times, the Doctor did not completely trust him. Also, since his regeneration when he had a chance to see his "future", the Doctor knew that Turlough was going to betray him. He just was unsure of when. He sighed and spoke with resignation. "I suppose your right", he turned to the young man, "Still, we should be cautious. There is also Shakespeare who wrote: by the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes."

Turlough laughed out loud, and stood up." Must you be so melodramatic? We've been here, what two hours, and you are already finding menace in your own shadow."

"It comes with the territory," the Doctor said, rather pointedly, irritated at Turlough's attempt at being perky. The boys' sullen attitude was bothersome at times, yet it was something you could count on. This recent, and sudden change to his personality, was always making Tegan irritated. Now he was beginning to see her point.

"So, what time period are we in?" Turlough asked, turning to the view screen that showed a city skyline at night.

The Doctor looked at the chronometer, and then at the coordinate screen, and then at the view screen. "Chicago in the year 2001."

Turlough turned to the Doctor. "It looks quite peaceful."

The Doctor smiled. "It normally is. I love this town." The Time Lord moved closer to the view screen. "It's one of the largest and richest and most impressive cities in what they call the heartland of North America. It's really the crossroads to the Midwest, despite that they say about that big arch thing in St. Louis."

"One thing for sure, is this town is in the middle of a heat wave," came Tegan's voice as she sulked back into the TARDIS. The Doctor and Turlough turned to her. She looked tired, and sweaty, like she had just run a marathon. She had a newspaper in her hand (for a moment, the Doctor wondered where she had got the money and the newspaper, for that matter), which she slammed down onto the console. She looked at the Doctor and tilted her head. This was a sign to the Doctor that trouble was ahead. "I thought we were going to land in the 1920's. I still have my dress from Lady Cranleigh. I was hoping to wear it again."

"Yes, well", the Doctor began, "we seemed to have arrived a little later than I wanted, but there is still plenty to see." The Doctor smiled, but Tegan seemed to ignore it. 

"So, what's happened now?" she asked.

Well, what did you expect, Doctor, he thought to himself? He stopped smiling, and moved towards the console again. He decided to become sheepish. While it was not enduring and probably a little childish, Tegan usually fell for it. In the end, she did trust the man. Still, at times, she began to wonder why. "I'm not really sure," he admitted, "the TARDIS sensors are detecting something." He danced his fingers over the controls, keeping one eye on the small view screen. "I'm picking up a slight waver in the Space/Time imaging array."

"Which means?" Tegan asked.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, again. The imaging array was new, and he wasn't sure what to make of these new readings. The TARDIS computer itself seemed also confused by the recent additions and it appeared to be taking her time in analyzing the new data. "Still, I'm sure it's nothing." He looked at Tegan, who seemed not to be buying his explanation. He sure wasn't. He fished out his pocket watch, and opened it up. "It's late; 1:45 am local time." He shut the watch and put it back in his pocket. "I suggest a little rest, and I'll take you on tour." He smiled and then turned, and walked out of the console room. 

Tegan stood for a moment, looking at door the Doctor had left by, then at Turlough. She wanted to say something, anything, but kept quiet. She had said it all before, and was getting so bad that even she was getting tired of complaining. With a shrug, she closed the outer doors and followed suit. Turlough stayed for a while, and looked over the TARDIS console. He flicked a button and called out: "Computer."

"Working", came a soft, elegant female voice. During his refit, the Doctor installed a voice-activated program into the TARDIS' mainframe. He did not like to use it, though, saying that Tegan and Nyssa disagreed with him enough, and he didn't need a computer arguing with him also. However, Turlough found the conversations he was having with the TARDIS enlightening.

"The Doctor mentioned something about a slight flutter in the imaging array. Could you please explain." Turlough moved over to the chair and sat down.

"The sensors are picking up a fluctuation at 000.70 on the Time/Space elliptical line."

"Another TARDIS."

"Negative."

Turlough leaned forward. "Then what's causing the flutter?"

"Insufficient information." the computer reported. 

"Theoretical."

The computer voice was silent, and Turlough thought that the console seemed to frown. Hesitating. Then it spoke. "A 63.7% possibility of a unauthorized time displacement."

"Time displacement," Turlough muttered. Just what in the hell did that suppose to mean, he thought. The computer became silent. The boy sat back in the big chair, thinking. 

With in a few moments, though, he was a sleep. It would be restless, and filled with unknown images, but none the less, sleep.

3

Tegan walked into the console room, feeling rested and refreshed for the first time in a long time. At first this bothered her. She was getting used too always running from some sort of danger. At times, the danger felt like a drug. It was like when she chose to become an airline hostess. She always liked adventure. She craved action, and when things were slow, she would get restless like a tiger in a small cage. Now though, with all she had been through, she wondered if she ever be a 

peace again.

Tegan had dressed casual. The newspaper she got informed her of the heat wave that was hitting the city, so she went with a pair of yellow shorts, and a white Tee shirt. She had found some tennis shoes stuck in the corner of the costume room. She really wasn't surprised to find that the fit. But, the new outfit made her feel she was ready for anything.

Tegan found the console room empty of people, and the TARDIS doors were open. She walked over to the doors, and peered out. Faint sun light was all she could see. She called out to the Doctor, and then Turlough. She went over to the console, and pushed the com button, and called out again. It was Turlough who responded.

"Yes, Tegan?"

"Where's the Doctor?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Turlough answered. "But, I think he's wandering outside. He woke me up about an hour ago, and told me to change. So that's what I'm doing. I'll be up shortly."

"Fine. I'll wait." Tegan switched off the com, and looked at the view screen, and only saw the skyline of Chicago. She had never been to the States before, and she was looking forward to seeing the "Windy City". She tried to remember what she learned about the States in school, but she soon realized that despite all the her years of history; she knew close to nothing about the them, except for its political structure, and its status as one of the richest and most diverse countries on the planet. History was never one of her fortes, which was ironic, considering she spent a lot of time in Earth's past.

Just then, Turlough walked in. He had replaced his school outfit with a pair of blue shorts and a colorful striped, button down short-sleeve shirt. On his head, he wore a baseball cap with a logo that spelled Cubs.

Tegan smiled, finding that she liked the new look, and hating to admit that she was starting to like this young man from another planet. She looked towards the corridor. "What of Kamelion?" she asked suddenly. She had forgotten about the shapeshifting android that had recently joined the crew. Since his escape from the clutches of the Master on Earth in 1215, he had secreted himself away. Like the Doctor's mood recently, Kamelion tried to spend as little time as he could with the crew. Tegan thought this was little creepy, but Turlough only shrugged and said that she should not stick her nose into things that did not concern her.

"I have no idea. But, I think, if he wants to come with us, he will." Turlough walked past her, and out of the TARDIS. Tegan stood for a moment, wondering if she should page him. Turlough's attitude was typical, yet she knew he was right. She just hated it.

"You're on your own, then", she muttered, and followed Turlough.

4

The Doctor stood on a concrete barrier, looking across the huge lake, taking in the skyline of the city. In his left hand he had a small device that was square in shape, and was lit with colorful lights. It also made noise. Not annoying noise, but just enough for some one to ask what he was doing. Which was what Turlough did.

"I'm just taking a few readings."

"Is there something wrong?"

The Doctor said nothing at first, moving the pocket shaped device around the air, and looking at the small video screen it had. It seemed to be measuring something, but what, seemed to escape the young man. Finally, as he spoke, Tegan came up to them. "Well, nothing that this device can pick up, but yet I sense something is not right." The Doctor pocketed the device, and from his other pocket, he produced his hat. He dusted off some imaginary dirt, and put it on his head. He had left his coat in the TARDIS, but he was still wearing his white shirt with the question marks on the collars.

Tegan looked at the Time Lord, trying to read into his thoughts. She was wondering if she should begin to worry, but then she decided that there really was no use to it. What ever would happen (and she hoped just once that nothing did happen) will happen. The Doctor had mentioned several times about something called the web of time, and that all his adventures were some how pre-ordained. Tegan couldn't decide if the Doctor was being truthful or just full of horse shit. 

"Where to, then?" she finally asked.

"Well," the Doctor smiled." How about we get some breakfast. I know a great place on Michigan Ave."

5

They had breakfast at a small restaurant called Mom's, which wasn't on Michigan Ave at all, but a small hole in the wall off on State near Rush. Tegan was worried that the place was about to be closed by the health inspector, but found the food hot and delicious. Although the Doctor ordered food, he didn't eat, but kept talking to an older woman behind the counter like they were old friends. Tegan watched the exchange, while munching on some crisp bacon. Turlough, meanwhile, ate his pancakes and sausage with abandoned, almost like a condemned man, fearing his food is about to be taken away.

After a while, the former airhostess' attention was drawn to the walls of the restaurant, were scenes of Chicago were played out. The murals were like a timeline of city, from its humble origins in the early 19th century to its skyscrapers that seemed to reach for the heavens in the later half of the 20th century. She stopped to ponder the Great Chicago Fire that took place in 1871. The drawings were horrendous, and 

Teagn thought back to when the TARDIS crew had arrived in London in 1666 at the time of the Great Plague. London had burned then, killing thousands. It appeared that two hundred years later, the city of Chicago fell under a firestorm.

Tegan turned to see the old lady looking at her. She smiled slightly, and Tegan felt a shiver cross her body. Wondering where that came from, she turned to the Doctor, who lowered himself into the booth next to Turlough. The Time Lord looked at Tegan, then at the old lady, and then back at his companion.

"A nice old bird," he whispered.

"You seem like old friends."

"In away, yes. I knew her grandmother when she first opened this place in the 20's. Now she was a real character."

"Doctor, that was 80 years ago, don't you think it's a little odd that you haven't aged."

The Doctor smiled slightly, and picked up a small piece of bacon off his plate. "Well, I'm sure it will make her think for a while, but then again, when I knew her grandmother, I didn't look like I do now."

"Can we go?"

The Doctor and Tegan turned to Turlough. He had said nothing since ordering his food, and when it arrived, he began to shovel it into his mouth. They both had forgotten he was there.

"I beg your pardon?"

6

From his vantagepoint across from Mom's, Caleb Parker took a sip from his coffee, and watched the street. But, he really wasn't paying much attention to the cars or the people. Even his textbooks were strewn on the table like a child's abandoned toy; his pending history test forgotten.

He didn't know why he was here. Well, that was a lie. In truth, he was told to be here by Harrison. The reason was not to him, but he had insisted that he be here at this time on this day. He had called his best friend and told her to bring her class work, and that they would study. But that too had been a lie. He had no intention on doing his homework; it was a cover story. But he had brought them; more to keep his story than just in case he needed them.

He would often reflect on his irony of returning to school a decade after leaving it all behind. When asked why he had decided to go back to school, he told family and friends because he saw his life was slowly closing in on him, and if he didn't do something to change it, he felt the universe was going to swallow him up. 

When he was younger, he hated school, hated the homework. He had wondered if his dislike for school was rooted in fact he had lost his father at such a young age, or maybe there was something really wrong with the way his brain was wired. He would study until all hours, only to discover that once the test was in front of him, all the answers had fled him, like a bird from a prowling cat. He would stare at the questions, knowing that he had gone over the problem, yet the answers would never come. He wasn't a failure, by anyone's measure, but he never achieved the greatness some of his other fellow students seemed to do with little ease. He was easily distracted, and lived in a world where his father had lived and had parted great wisdom. Today, he guessed he might be diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, commonly known as ADD. 

On the other hand, he would consider sometimes, with his father dead, and his mother trying to be both, he had grown cynical and maybe, he conceded, bitter. He saw other kids are more successful than he is, even the troublemakers some how always came out on top. For the last twelve years of his life, he knew, he had been coasting, hoping that a door would open so he step through to a better life. That was what his Mother used to say to him and his siblings all the time. God never closed one door without opening another. After a while, Caleb wondered if he was just missing the open doors, or because his cynical side would take over him, too unbelievable. 

For he believed you made your own destiny. But the fault to that logic was, he also was too much of an optimist, too trusting of other people, in particular his coworkers and bosses. He trusted them that some how they would see his brilliant abilities, and would go out of their way to help him. When he was passed over for a promotion at work, he began to wonder why. Sure he had the experience, which he often told to stop apologizing for, but why was he missing the boat to success? At times, when he was more reflective, he would try to analyze what went wrong, only to discover that maybe he was to eremitic and to up front with his beliefs. For, Caleb Parker was not a person who hid his emotions or feelings on certain subjects. He told people how he felt, whether they liked it or not. True, he was not so much like his own Mother, a woman who had to bring up four kids by herself after her husband passed. She had it rough, with being told by her own father not to expect any help from him or her mother. She had to take the horns of the bull and tried to navigate a bumpy world with four kids, all between the ages of two and nine. She did do it, at the sacrifice of a lot of things.

At some point, she even sacrificed her children's own future. We are all a product of our past; she was fond of saying. You teach your children what you were taught by your own parents. Of course, you eliminate the items that no longer apply, mostly because times do change. If there was one truth in the world, if you don't change, you fail. A lot that his mother taught him and his siblings no longer work in this modern world. Stephen King had written that the world had moved on, you have to move on with it. 

On this, though, his mother would disagree with him. He knew when they talked on the phone, and as he would listen to her ramble on what things his siblings were doing wrong as they brought up their kids, that the world was essentially the same as when her parents reared her. Caleb would tell her to not stick her nose into their business, that times had changed, but she wouldn't. It was her right as a parent, she would say, to have some say in the upbringing of her grandchildren. This coming from a woman who took what her father said to her to heart, and brought up her kids the way she believed was right. Sure she taught her daughters and sons what was right and wrong. But in doing so, she also taught them to be negative and find the darkness in everything before seeing the light of good.

That was why he stayed away so much, why he talked to her only occasionally, why he failed to tell her he was gay. She would make him feel guilty. He had enough doubt in his own life, and sit and listen to her put more in his brain, was not helping.

Why was he here now, on this warm summer morning? He truly didn't know. All that he was sure of was that maybe if this helped Harrison; he might have a chance to be loved again. 

Beside him sat Hollis Gleason, his best friend, and fellow student, who was feeling the pressure of summer school, and her parents deep unapproval of the company she kept. She had met Caleb three years ago, when she started working at the same bookstore as he was. They became fast friends, and try as she might, that's all they would become. When her parents had met Caleb, and discovered things about him, they tried to stop her from seeing him. Their strong Christian beliefs prevented them from accepting him. 

Their reaction made Hollis want to spend more time him and his friends. She turned and watched Caleb; her deep blues eye's trying to find what he was feeling on his face. His brown, specked with gray, hair was cropped short, as was the current style. He wore a light blue tank top, which hung loose on his thin, swimmer type body. He had a pair of dark blue, nylon running pants, and sandals that showed off his sexy, bare feet. At least that's how she thought of them. Yes, she was in love with him. She had always found the older man attractive. He was thirty, while she just 21. She also knew that he loved her, but was not in love with her. He was already hopelessly in love with someone else, and right now, and Hollis assumed that is were his thoughts were currently.

"Tell me how you feel." she murmured. He turned to her. His brown eyes were blood shot, and she could tell he had been crying again. 

"How I feel?" Caleb said it as a statement more than a question. He took another sip of his coffee. "There's a man that I love, who I've haven't spoken to in over a year, a man who now lays dying and refuses to see me." His voice was sad, a little distant." I've always wanted to be part of his life, yet he's always shut me out. Now, when I think I need him more than he needs me he slams the door in my face. How do I feel?" he 

paused, and a tear ran down right cheek. "I feel an emptiness has grabbed my heart, and is tearing it apart. I feel old and useless."

"Harrison blames himself," Hollis said gently. "He always has. When you two broke up last year, he was thinking of you. He knew what kind of hell he would be going through, and didn't want to put you through it. He argued to me that since it his stupidity that got him sick, that it was best he take the final journey himself."

Caleb smiled, and shook his head. "He always was a sentimental old queen", he said fondly." I never blamed him for that affair he had. Hell, we weren't really serious eight years ago. But, that's just the point, Hollis. We've known each other for ten years, and have been in love for six of those years, and now he thinks he can shut me out like some forgotten child's toy. I just think that it's unfair." 

"So do I". Hollis moved around the table, and sat close to Caleb. She brushed her dark brown hand over his buzz cut hair. "Guilt is a terrible thing. He blames himself for his HIV, and now his full blown AIDS, and wants to protect you from feeling anymore pain on how he got infected."

"I know who he got it from, and I don't blame him. Hell, Harve was a great looking guy, but an asshole none the less. Harry was always attracted to the jerks in any crowd. But I've never stopped loving him. It's like the poem by W.H. Auden: He was truly 'my North, my South, my East, my West, my working week, and my Sunday rest.'"

Hollis idly stirred her coffee, wondering what to say. She looked around the shop. It had grown quiet, almost as if the people in the store were trying to listen in. After a few moments, she spoke. "I guess the question is, what do you do next?" 

Caleb let the question go unanswered. For he truly didn't know what to say. It was one of those rare times that he could think of nothing to say.

Hollis looked out the window suddenly, her eye's drawn to a trio of people leaving Mom's across the street. She watched them, thinking for some reason that they were odd. She knew somehow that they must were tourist, but how she knew that, was anyone's guess. 

Caleb seemed to notice them, also. Hollis turned to look at him. His eye's narrowed as he stared at the three. He turned to Hollis. "Don't ask me how I know this, but I think I just got the answer to that question." With a sudden jolt, he kissed her on the cheek, and was gone.

Hollis sat few seconds, trying to figure out just what the hell had happened. She stared at the mess of books and paper on the table, and then back to her friend who was making a beeline towards the three departing people.

She swore.

7

Tegan Jovanka fanned herself with one of the paper menu's she grabbed before they left the restaurant. It was still early, yet the heat and humidity were already quite unbear-able. Turlough, meanwhile, seemed to be unaffected by the heat, saying that he spent a lot of time on a planet called Sarn, were volcano's dotted the landscape like tree's in a forest. 

This did little to change Tegan's mood. As far as she was concerned, Turlough could just shut up and let her sweat in misery. She was about to ask the Doctor something, when a handsome man in his middle to late twenties came running up. Tegan raised an eyebrow, taking an instant like to this man.

"Excuse me" his voice was winded, and a bead of sweat fell down the side of his face. The TARDIS crew stopped and looked at the young man. The Doctor, ever the diplomat, stepped forward.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I know this is going to sound odd, " the man said between breaths. "I have to admit that I didn't really believe him, but when he told me to be at the Starbucks this morning, of all mornings, I thought it was his dementia again. But he knew you would be here. He knew what you look like, even down to those question marks on your collar of your shirt." He paused and took a deep breath while three people looked at him with utter confusion. " I just can't believe it."

The Doctor looked at the young man, wondering what to say. It seemed to him that this person was little confused, yet his eyes gleamed with some knowledge. Finally, the Doctor spoke his voice soft, and gentle.

"Young man, I have no idea what you are talking about. We just arrived his morning, and no one knew we would be here."

The young man smiled broadly." He knew," he jumped up with roar of joy. "Dammit, he knew. He said you would be here."

"Who said?"

"My boyfriend, or really my ex-boy friend." The man looked at the befuddled Time Lord. He suddenly realized that he hadn't asked the most crucial question yet." You are the Doctor?"

Two mouths dropped open. As both Tegan and Turlough sputtered, the Doctor looked at the young man.

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Fascinating."


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

1

He arrived with a thud, and a cloud of dust. 

It had taken him a few moments to realize he was alive, which really surprised him. His mind felt fuzzy, like it was woven in cotton. He shook his head to fling the cobwebs from him, but when that failed to do anything but raise more dust, he laid silent for a moment, trying to figure out just what in all that's holy had gone on. He tried to think, but was rewarded with a sharp pain to his temples, like a thousand pieces of glass being shoved in all at one time.

He decided that he'd avoid thinking, at least for the time being. When he opened his eyes, he failed to see anything. For a brief moment, he panicked. Then he drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. Then he let it out quickly. He attempted to look around, assuming that he was not blind. It was just dark, like a nightmare with no ending. He closed them again. His senses careened like wheel out of control. He decided to listen, hoping this would not make his mind explode with anymore pain. 

He heard the sounds that were unfamiliar to him, yet he felt, for some unknown reason, that they would not hurt him. He listened like a blind person, his ears trying to piece together the sounds, but his thoughts seemed to be broken in a million fragments, like a shattered planet. 

After a while, he slept. He dreamed, and those visions were filled with images he failed to understand or recognize. But soon enough, his sleep became deep, and for a few hours, his body was still, and so was his mind.

He awoke with light streaming overhead, and he tried to focus on its source, but realized he wasn't in the right position. With trepidation he decided to move. When no shooting pain came roaring through his head, he sat up. Dust and small debris fell into his lap. The light grew, and turned towards it. The window, as it seemed to be, was covered in dust and dirt, but what light came through made him think of time he had spent at a beach.

Now where did that come from, he suddenly thought. A beach? He tried to reason this out, but soon failed to figure what it meant. He turned away from the window, and looked at his legs, and for the first time realized he was naked. He closed his eyes, once again trying to figure out just what in the hell happened to him. When nothing came, he made an attempt to stand. It took a few moments of concentration, and some deep breaths, but he finally found himself on his bare feet. 

He brushed the dust from his hair, which he noticed, was quiet long, and was brown in color. He heard the clatter of rocks and other things fall to the floor. Then, after a moment, all was quiet. He stood for a while, trying to figure what to do next. His brain began to wake up, and images were beginning to form. They were disjointed, but he sensed that in few moments, he would start to make those jig saw pieces fall into place. 

With great effort, he began to walk. At first it was small steps, and mostly because the floor was covered with trash, and didn't want to step on anything that might break the skin on the soles of his feet. He moved towards the window. He suddenly found the need to find out where he was. For he feared that he was far from home. He did not know where the sensation came from, but he knew, somehow he knew, he was not where he should be.

With his bare hand, he rubbed the dirt from the window. Bright light broke through the grime. He looked at his now dirty hand, and rubbed his fingers together, feeling the scum. Quickly bored with this, he returned his attention to the window. He peered out through the clean area. He saw little, beyond some trees and bushes. He guessed that he was looking at some sort of meadow. He looked up and saw a big tree, its branches waving in the wind. The he saw the animal. It was big, and brown. It had a long snout and a black patch of hair leading toward its back. Its tail flopped in the air, but it wasn't being blown by the wind. 

It's a horse. 

The thought tumbled into his brain, and he turned away from the window, as if he was struck. A terrible idea was forming in his head, and it instantly scared him. He realized at that moment that not only was he far from home, but he was not from this planet. A name suddenly popped into his, as if some one had turned on a light. A name of someone he had foolishly trusted and admired. Like a waterfall full from heavy rain, his past rushed over him. His mind was filled images of a place he had grown up in, of a place that meant great things to him. But over all, a man who he loved like a father filled his thoughts. A man who showed him great wonders, but in the end betrayed him.

Barusa.

2

After a few moments of silence from the small group of people, the Doctor had finally spoken. It took a few moments to calm the young man down, but soon this Caleb Parker, as he introduced himself, and the Doctor were walking away, and in deep conversation, leaving Turlough and Tegan trying to catch up.

They came to a park area surrounded by Michigan Ave, Pearson Street & Chicago Ave. It was lined with tall trees, which seemed to be drooping in the July heat. She knew how they felt. Towards the center of this park and facing East towards Lake Michigan stood a cream-colored monument. Tegan wanted to know what this was, but the strange young man drew her attention away. They sat down on a park bench. Turlough, for some odd reason, wandered away.

The Doctor watched Turlough for a second, suddenly overcome by the oddness of this all. He was missing something, that he knew. As the young red haired man made his way over the large marker, the Time Lord shook his head, hoping something would fall into place. When that failed, he turned his attention back to the young man.

The Doctor looked in to Caleb's dark brown eyes, trying to see what was lurking behind them. Despite his unease of earlier, the Time Lord felt safe with this boy. He may, he thought, give him the answers he was seeking. 

"Now," the Doctor spoke slowly, "can you explain again how you knew I would be here, and how you knew my name."

Caleb smiled sheepishly, his mind working overtime to gather his thoughts. "It's a long story, sir," he finally said. The Doctor turned to Tegan, then back at the boy. He smiled slightly.

"We seem to have some time."

The young man turned away, his face falling like an avalanche. "Yeah, but Harry doesn't"

"Who is this Harry? " Tegan asked. The Doctor gave her a recalcitrant look.

"Look, sir," he looked over to the lady with the Australian accent.

"Tegan Jovanka." She said with a slight smile.

"Doctor, Tegan. I first want to understand that I'm not crazy." he looked at the Doctor." I now realize that. At one time I was confused and thought that maybe, he was crazy. He said he was from another planet, but you know, when you're in love, you'll listen and believe anything. That, I think is why I fell in love with him. He was a mystery to me and everyone he came in contact with."

The Doctor raised his hand. "Caleb, forgive me. You have us at a disadvantage. I need to know how you knew my name, and how you knew I would be here." 

"That's the easy part. He made you come here."

The Doctor leaned back, a look of surprise on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"He said he could interrupt your travel, and make you come here."

The Doctor looked for line of untruth in the young man's eyes, but he found nothing. What this Caleb Parker was saying, as much as he knew, was the truth. Could this unknown person, this lover of this young man, have the power to divert his TARDIS? Tegan poked the Doctor on his shoulder. He turned to her.

"Doctor, we did arrive 80 years later than you wanted. Could this guy cause this?"

"Not in this time. The technology of this period is not advanced. As a matter of fact, it'll take eons before it will."

"So how?"

"That, my young lady, is what I'm trying to figure out." Tegan mouthed an O and let the Doctor return to his conversation. She turned to see Turlough wandering around the stone marker.

The Doctor drew in a deep breath, and quickly let it out. His mind raced with unanswered questions. He tried to assimilate all the questions, and then spoke. "It seems you know a lot more than I do." He turned to Tegan." Which I grant you, is a first," he added, turning back to Caleb. Tegan frowned, but said nothing. "But, you must understand something; it's not everyday that someone walks up to me and tells me what you said."

"No, they usually pull a weapon on us," commented Tegan. She regretted it instantly, for she got an acrimonious look from him.

For sometime now, the Doctor has wondered why Tegan continued to travel with him. Or better yet, why he let her continue with him. Ever since she wandered into the TARDIS, she had been nothing but irritating. She had a short temper and had a knack for getting him into more trouble than he thought necessary. But at the core level, he knew that he was just as big a troublemaker as she. And he did care for her; Nyssa used to say Tegan was the yin to the Doctor's yang. Another words, they both needed each other. 

"Despite my traveling companions ability to say the wrong things at the wrong time, she does have a point." The Doctor paused. The young man was watching the interaction, and was quite fascinated by it. This was not turning out to be very useful conversation. He guessed he had to get to the point, but his brain appeared to be on overdrive. Why, Harrison, have you put me into this position? But, ever since they had met, Harrison was always doing that. 

"Listen, I'm not sure what to say. What I can really say. This has been all confusing to me as well". 

The Doctor inhaled and held his breath for a moment, trying to focus his thoughts on this boy, while the traffic noise tried to push them aside. He let out a sigh and felt better. Now he had to get the boy to start his tale. "Listen, I need to know what is going on. You obviously hold the all the cards. Please tell us what you know."

"We met at this business dinner that my company gave. I saw him across the room. I know this is so cliched, but as soon as I saw him, I knew we would be more than friends." He turned to Tegan, " Have you ever been in love?"

What on odd question to ask, Tegan thought. And rude, to top it off. What right does this person have to even ask me such a question? "I just met you. I don't think I have to say anything. "

"Please, I'm trying to be contemptuous, but for some reason, I sense only you could really answer that question." Caleb turned back to the Doctor, "No insult intended, Doctor."

The Time Lord smiled and shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of the boy's apology. Still, it did sting. He indeed had been in love once, along time ago. It was a love so intense and passionate, that when it went all away, he wrapped it up in the folds of his memory and stashed it away. 

"It was that he such an air of mystery about him. I know it sounds hackneyed, but he looked like he had a secret, and I was determined to find out what it was." Caleb paused, and looked over to the Doctor's other companion, the one called Turlough. An eyebrow went up. The man was not unattractive. He was lean and his eyes glowed with intense knowledge. Tegan watched the boy's shifting eyes, wondering what he was thinking. "Well, anyway, I was introduced to him. He was some high up engineer in Chronotonics, a high tech computer company." The Doctor wanted the man to get to the point, but felt that Caleb's discourse was something he had to do. "We talked. Or better yet, I talked. I have a tendency to dominate a conversation, 

(_no kidding_, Tegan mused)

telling my life story, like anyone wants to hear it. It was a glorious meeting, but after the night came to an end, I never got his number. And despite calls to where he worked, I could never get a hold of him. But, over the next few months, we kept running into each other. I'm not a bar hopper, but I soon began spending most of my Friday and Saturday nights checking out every queer bar on Halsted until I found him." 

"We became friends, of a sort. As I found out, he didn't make friends easily. He had a dark past, and as much as I was determined to find out what it was, he was equally adept at keeping it hidden. Two years later, we became lovers. We were together for five years. We broke up a year ago, after I found out about an affair he had." Caleb's eye's darkened with emotion. "That's also when I found out he had gotten the HIV virus."

"What's that?" Tegan asked.

Caleb looked over at her with an astonished look. "Where have you been, Miss Jovanka?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Parker," the Doctor put up his hand. "We travel a lot, and Tegan comes from a time before HIV."

"I wish that I did, also." Caleb muttered.

"Now, Caleb, this Harrison you were involved with, how did you get the information you got?" 

"We had a big argument, and some where in our anger toward each other, he blurted out stuff about his past. How I really didn't know him and all the stuff you say in a fit of anger. After he calmed down, he told me he was from a planet called Gallifrey." 

The Doctor straightened up, and looked at Tegan, who looked quite surprised herself. Turlough had finally wandered over, and was astounded to hear those words from this human.

3

A warm breeze blew from the west; rustling the trees, their fall colored leaves scattering to ground like children throwing stones. He smelled the air, noting the dryness. He looked around the barn, for that was what he realized he was in, and tried to filter out all the new information that seemed to be pushing into his head like water down a drain. 

Barusa.

He tried to remember what had happened. It was a little fuzzy, but that he could recall, seemed broken and disjointed. He had been in the Capital, in some hidden area of the throne room. Barusa, dressed in black from head to foot, looking thin and old. He was talking about someone, a Time Lord who was known to be a renegade. 

The naked man shook his head; almost hoping the action would make things click into place. Renegades. The Master, the Rani, The Monk, the Doctor. So many, yet they will pale in comparison in what Barusa has plans for. That was it! Barusa, President of the High Council, who had ruled from behind the scenes more than in front, had discovered the darkest part of Time lord history. A part that made the few renegades of Gallifrey look like choirboys. Now he wanted the ultimate secret. The ultimate power in the universe. He wanted immortality. 

And I helped him, the man thought. I, Harit, had helped him.

* * *

Harit stood in the small chamber that held the power room of the Dark Tower on Gallifrey. He was trying to free one of the Doctors incarnations, and his Time Lady companion, Romana, from a freak Time Eddy. Behind him, Barusa was using the Time Scoop to gather further people who had been associated with the Doctor. 

The Game of Rassilon was in motion.

At first, when Barusa had secretly called Harit to help him, he was blinded by the President's power. He thought it an honor to help such a great man and found no menace in keeping the knowledge of the Death Zone, and all its history a secret from the rest of the High Council. At least at first. Besides, the Council had done little for him, so he felt what he was doing was not wrong. 

Frustrated at his current task, he turned from his computer screen; his old and wrinkled hands fell to his side.

"Lord President, I can not rescue the fourth incarnation of the Doctor from this time eddy, that is with out draining more power from the Eye, which I am sure the High Council will be able to track."

Barusa turned and frowned. "I'm so close." The President walked over to Harit, and looked at the readouts. At first he seemed to talking to himself, then he nodded at Harit. "Still, you are quite correct. The idiots on the Council are already aware of the drain on the Eye of Harmony. If we exert anymore power on the Fourth Doctor, they will tack us down." Barusa turned and walked over to the large table that held the play area of the Death Zone. The First, Second and Third Doctors were already in the Game, their figures stood like chess pieces on the table, with the Dark Tower at the center, like some evil specter. "But," he added, "there are his fearless companions. Once I get them, and the Fifth Doctor here, I will not have to worry about the one caught in time."

"Lord President" Harit spoke suddenly." May I speak?"

Barusa turned to him, noting the old man was looking frail and just a little pale. He smiled slightly. When he had recruited Harit, it was for his unwavering ability at Temporal Mechanics; he knew the ins and outs of maneuvering through the Space/Time continuum. He knew that Harit's usefulness was close to an end, and he also knew that the foolish old man had no idea he was going to die. Of course, Barusa did not know how he was going to get rid of the man. He thought of just using a staser, but felt getting rid of the body would be to complicated. Besides, a staser was not enough kill a Time Lord assuredly. He could regenerate, and still point a finger. No, what Barusa needed, was a way to get him completely out of the picture, so there would be no evidence to point back to him.

"Why, of course, Harit" Barusa oozed. "You are very important to me, and I need to know what is going on."

Harit swallowed, and began to collect his thoughts. He realized a few hours ago that his alliance with the President had been a strategic mistake on his part. Barusa had laid the plan out like five course meal. He knew of Harit's displeasure of the High Council. He had used his dislike for Flavia and the Castellan against him. So like a hungry wolf, Harit grabbed at the chance to prove them wrong. But now, all too late in this game, did Harit realize what a fool he had been. Now he had to figure how he was going to get out of this alive.

"Barusa, I think.... well..." his throat dried up."...I think what you are doing is going to far."

The President's smile vanished. "What do you mean?"

"When you first told me of your plans at getting back at the High Council, you never mentioned that you would be re-activating the Death Zone and stealing the Doctor's companions from their time streams. You are risking a Temporal explosion that could destroy a star system." Harit stopped talking, and looked into the eyes of man he long trusted a man who, despite being a little rough around the edges, could be trusted with anything. Now those eyes beamed hatred and fear.

"That is why I brought you here, fool." Barusa spat." The Death Zone is a risky place. It plays havoc with time lines. I know all this. Your knowledge of those problems was what brought me to my attention." The president paused, trying to figure out what to do next. With three Doctors now in the Death Zone, a fourth one caught in some freak time disturbance, Barusa's own time line would be pushed up. His fellow Time Lords will soon begin to see what was unfolding. Barusa realized that the fifth Doctor would soon arrive to save his former selves and companions. What was once a two-person operation, would now have to be whittled down to one.

Harit looked away briefly, now wondering what was going to happen. Time Lords could read minds, but most kept their thoughts buried. Besides, it was not good sense to tiptoe through other people's memories. When he turned back, Barusa had wandered over to the wall that held the instruments for the time scoop. Harit stood up, abruptly. But it was way too late. Barusa turned with a speed that belied his aged look. In his hands was a black device, and a gloved hand was touching the keypad. Instantly the lights began to dim and Barusa cursed. From the device, blue electric light lanced out and struck the other Time Lord hard in the chest. With a audible "whoop", Harit was flung across the small space in the control room. He slumped to the floor, dead. 

The lights returned to normal, and Barusa swore again. The power he was using would make the other Time Lords aware that evil was going on. He would only have a few moments. He imputed some new numbers into the hand held box, and then plugged it into the time scoop. 

In a few seconds, a bright red glow enveloped the dead Time Lord on the floor, and then a crackle of blue energy went over the body. There was a big, bright flash of light, and Harit was gone, sucked into a vortex.

Barusa smiled, and for a brief moment, wondered where and when this meddling old fool would turn up, or would he just burn up in the vortex?

Then the Time Lord turned back to the project at hand, Harit already forgotten.

* * *

Harit looked at his new hands. They were young, thin and long. They were elegant and looked very strong. His legs were sturdy, and covered with a light layer of blond hair. His stomach was flat and smooth. His chest was well defined and hairless. He smiled, despite this situation. While the staser had killed the old Harit, the combination of that and being sent through the vortex caused him to regenerate. A new body, at last.

One big question was: Where am I and at what point in time?

He turned to the window again, and walked over. He saw some cloths hanging from a line just with in his reach. Some how he knew that going around naked would draw a lot of unwanted attention. Once he got dressed, he would explore this new place.

4

"You expect us to believe all this nonsense?" Tegan asked suddenly. The Doctor turned to her, a look of shock on his face. 

Caleb also had that same look on his face. He sputtered briefly, looking at the Doctor then Turlough then Teagn and then back at the Doctor. Finally he spoke, and his voice was small, like a child who's been caught telling the truth, when everyone around you believes it to be a lie.

"Well, yes".

The Doctor turned to Caleb, ignoring Tegan's look. "Now, young man, you seem to be taking this all rather well. Most humans don't take well to aliens invading this planet." He turned to Tegan, who gave the Doctor a questionable look. It seemed his sarcasm either went over her head, or she chose to ignore his comment.

"Well, at this time and place, I'll believe anything. Especially if it will help Harrison." Caleb looked away from the three travelers, wondering what to do next. Taking them to Harrison would be the obvious choice, but now that all that has happened, Caleb began to wonder if he was going through the same dementia that his former lover was going through.

The Doctor stood, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. He looked over to the small marker that stood in the center of the small park, and raised an eyebrow. 

"Now that's odd", he muttered. He walked over to the cream-colored marble and stared at the writing that appeared on it. It was a historical marker dating back to the Great Chicago fire. For a moment, he was lost in thought. Lost in time. Something was not right, he could feel it in his Time Lord bones. But for the lives of him, he could not put his finger on it. It was seemed to be just out of his reach.

"Doctor?" came Tegan's voice. The turned to her, but said nothing. "Doctor" she repeated this time a statement. He muttered something, and then blinked his eyes, his thoughts were pressed back.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we should go and see this Harrison?"

The Doctor looked at her, then at the traffic on Michigan Ave. He turned and looked at the handsome man named Caleb, who still sat on the bench. Turlough stood close by him. The Doctor sighed and turned back to Tegan.

"An excellent idea." he said with a smile.

* * *

The hum of the bus, and the fact that the air conditioning was not working, made Tegan wonder why the didn't just take the TARDIS. Chicago was hot and humid, and people were being smashed into this bus like so many kids in a telephone booth. 

She turned to the Doctor, who sat on her left. His face was drawn, and he looked like had a stomachache. She wondered for a moment if she should keep quiet, but them decided she needed to ask some questions.

"Doctor, what is HIV?"

He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. He realized once again how he was influencing the timeline. How much should he tell, and what the effect would this be by telling Tegan? He had such limited experience with this disease. He decided to tell her what he did know. "During the early half of the 1980's, a virus of some kind began to invade the T cells of the immune system of humans." He paused, wondering if Tegan was going to question him further on it. When none came, he decided to continue. "It was characterized by increased susceptibility to infections." He looked over at Caleb, and his voice rang like a regretful oboe, "its first victims were discovered in the gay communities through out the world, with the United States being hardest hit first. The scientist isolated the virus that made the normal T cells fight off many infections. The virus was called HIV, and was prime reason people eventually came down with AIDS, or Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome."

Tegan turned to the Doctor, and then she too looked over at Caleb. She really had no opinion concerning gay people. Her Uncle, Auntie Vanessa's younger brother, was gay. She had only met him a few times growing up, mostly because he lived here in the States. He seemed to be a nice man, yet the Church also taught her that gay people sinned against God. The church was right, wasn't it? Uncle Jack had died a few months ago, from what appeared to be a rather bad case of the flu. Tegan began to wonder if there was a connection to his death and this AIDS.

"Where did this virus come from?"

The Doctor turned his eyes back to the seat in front of him. "The scientist were able to track its origin to somewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa. " 

"How did it come in contact with these people?"

"Mostly through the exchange of bodily fluids, but others got it through blood transfusions and drug users got it by sharing dirty needles. Once in the blood stream, the virus seemed to mutate at will. I became a killer with a million disguises. But how it got started, is still a controversy. Some say it jumped species, from an ape to a human. While religious leaders said this was God's punishment for such a decadent lifestyle."

"But you said it started in the gay community."

"Yes, but to put all the blame on them, is recklessness at its best." The Doctor looked back over to Caleb, who seemed to have drawn the usually quiet Turlough into a conversation. "AIDS was first discovered there, but that doesn't mean gay men are accountable for it."

Tegan looked at the Doctor. "So this Harrison has this disease? I guess this means its still around?"

The Doctor sighed. "Yes, and will be for some time. It will kill hundreds of thousands."

"What about drugs", she asked. "I mean, even in 1981

doctors were making advances in cancer treatment. The Doctor looked out the window, watching people, buildings, cars, pass by in an eye blink. Much like the way humans exists. In a blink of an eye. While he would eventually die, either at the hands of an enemy, or of old age, he would outlive all his companions he's had since he left home, and all that will come after his current crop. Sometimes, it was hard to think about it, but on the other hand, he decided a long time ago, it wasn't going to rule his life. Finally, he spoke, but he didn't turn from the window. His voice was low, and a bit sad. "Sure, there was many drugs created to help. But the discipline to take them and the cost to get them were exorbitant. There were plenty of people for whom the drug didn't work, for the virus could mutate around the drug and create a drug resistant strain. It will destroy the lives of men, women, and children. It kill strike down gays, straights, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and everything in between, before it is finally eradicated by the middle of the 21st century."

Tegan looked away from Caleb, her mind racing. She had ventured into the TARDIS in early 1981, and had spent almost three years with the Doctor. She had never wondered what would be waiting for her when she decided to leave the Doctor. She knew that soon, she would have to make a decision, like Nyssa; to stay or to go. Up until now, she always felt that when she did leave the TARDIS it would be Earth and she would be safe.

Not anymore. It seemed there was no safe place anymore. Death and destruction were the one constant in the universe. Earth, despite its checkered history, always seemed the safest. Now, Tegan realized, it was as dangerous as anyplace she has traveled with the Doctor.

As the hot bus clanked on through the traffic, Tegan felt a shiver go down her spine. 

It was very unsettling.

5

They were dropped off at Belmont and Halsted Streets. Tegan looked around and took the menu she took from Ma's. As the bus drove away, she began to fan herself. She looked down Halsted, taking notice of the buildings. Their beauty and age struck her. Many looked to well over a hundred, while some may just are just over twenty. They were all thrown together like toy soldiers, some taller than others, some older than others. The street was bumpy, and the sidewalks were crumbling; yet Tegan took a liking the look. She always appreciated antiques, and she had always one day hoped then she got her first flat, it would be filled with old,

cozy articles that were made decades before she was born. 

Once again, she reflected on Caleb and who he was. She was aware that kids still made snide comments about homosexuals, even some of her school chums had made the comments, and she knew she was not innocent either. It wasn't until she got into Flight Attendant Training, was she confronted not only with gay men, but rude comments that followed them like a lost puppy. She tried to pay no attention to these people, fear of loosing her focus, but she had become friends with one man, but she never even thought about his sexuality. He was just a good bloke; fun and devilish. She suddenly realized she missed him.

Caleb smiled and raised his arms. "Welcome to Boys Town."

"Boys Town?" Turlough asked with a slight smile. On his home planet, a long time ago, many leaders and highborn males were encouraged to have a male lover. Over the last few hundred years, the practice was stopped, but to his knowledge, it was no crime to have lovers of the same sex.

"I think it's about time we met this Harrison, " the Doctor said. "Will you show us the way?"

Caleb nodded his head, and began walking down the street. Tegan noticed a few bars, some stores and few usual things you see on a street in a big city, or any city, for that matter. When the came to Roscoe and Halsted, they turned east and walked into a beautiful tree lined street. There was a lot of cars parked one way, but the flats that stood like soldiers waiting for a sign from general were gorgeous. Tegan whistled. She was impressed. 

"Yes," Caleb said." This is one of the best reasons to live in the City." He added, and Tegan noted that when he said the City, it was in capital letters. You could really tell how much he loved this town.

They came to a three flat about a half block from Halsted. Caleb paused before opening the iron gate that would lead up to a walkway. He turned to his three new friends. 

"I must warn you." He swallowed, and briefly lowered his eyes. "Harrison is not in the best of shape, and his mind is mostly gone. He is not the man he used to be."

Tegan gave a half smile." Who is?"

Caleb turned back to gate and opened it. "If you'll follow me." Turlough went after Parker. The Doctor followed. Tegan hesitated a moment, and just as the Doctor was turning to look for her, she began to follow him.

6

Tegan was impressed with the flat they entered. The front door opened onto a hallway. You could either left, which would take you to a dinning room, a kitchen and what appeared to be some kind of enclosed deck area. To the right was a living room, the bathroom (from which the bright sunlight filtered through a small window) and the bedroom. Tegan noticed the perfume, a sweet smell of jasmine. It filled the apartment like a cloak; obviously trying to cover the smell of death that hung in the air like the odor of a wet dog.

The three time travelers followed Caleb into this room. It was large and decorated with an old antique dresser and mirror. On top of the dresser sat an assorted collection of bottles that Tegan thought contained the medicine that was keeping someone going. A light wind rustled the sheer drapes, and a small white fan sat spinning on the sill. Despite the heat outside, a nice cool breeze of wind blew through.

On the bed, was a man who looked dead. At least that was Tegan's first thought as she saw this Harrison. He laid with covers up to his waist, his bare chest covered in a thin line of sweat. Tegan wanted to look away from this man, yet she could not. His body was thin, his rib cage showed clearly through the thin skin of that chest. His arms were drawn out, almost Christ like, that sent another shiver down her spine. Tegan moved to the foot of the bed, her eyes never leaving the young man whom looked like he was in his late 20's or early 30's. His face was drawn and gray looking, like a thin coat of ash was covering it. His dark hair was cut real short, and Tegan could see some kind of scare tissue on his skull. 

When she looked into his eyes, Tegan did not see a dying man. His whole body may have given up, for she really didn't want to see what was under those sheets, but his eyes burned with intelligence.

For his part, Harrison laid there watching Tegan and her response to his condition. Despite the pain that raced through his joints and muscles, the man could not repress a smile. For looking at Tegan, then to Turlough and then the Doctor, Harrison realized that soon the pain would end. His destiny had finally showed up.

Harrison breathed in deeply, trying not to cough, but failing. Caleb went to him, and slowly raised him up to sitting position. After a few moments, the man's body eased its hacking. Caleb reached for a tissue and wiped his former lovers' lips, which were cracked and chapped, from lack of moisture, despite the humid weather. After a moment, he spoke.

"Hello, Doctor."

Harrison with an astonished look on his face. He looked into the ill man's dark brown eyes, hoping for a small clue for what was going on. What he got back, though, was an unexpectedness of his fate. He seemed to know what was going on around him, and he saw it with great amusement.

"Who are you?", the Doctor finally asked, his voice low and soft. Tegan moved closer, while Turlough stood in the doorway entrance, almost hesitant at entering the room. Harrison had noticed this, but said nothing. His concern was with the Doctor. 

"I don't have much time," Harrison said. The Doctor frowned at not getting his question answered. Harrison raised a thin, bony arm, that made Tegan think of dead bodies of Jews who were killed by Hitler's cronies during World War II. She knew that this man was dead, yet his heart and his brain hadn't come to that conclusion yet. "I will try to answer all those question that are spinning through your head Doctor, but you'll have to bare with me. Where shall I begin? How shall I tell the story that I have been living during these dreadful days? My time is so very short."

The Doctor looked over the body of Harrison again. "That is obvious. But, I ask again, who are you and how do you know me?"

Harrison blinked. He looked over at Caleb. "I'm sorry."

Caleb looked at Harrison; a perplexed look on sweat covered brow. Before Parker could respond, his lover spoke to him in a soft voice. A voice of love. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have never said what I did. I just thought this day would never come." Caleb stared at the man. A small tear ran down the right cheek. He wanted to speak, but for some reason no words came. Instead, he kissed him on his forehead, and moved in closer to him. Harrison turned his attention back to the Doctor.

"I'm a Time Lord."

The Doctor was taken aback. When they had entered the room, he tried to probe the man's mind. It was something the Doctor never did. But he discovered he could see nothing. Which did not make him an alien, but he knew few humans who could block their thoughts from a telepath. He pressed his lips tightly together. Tegan lowered herself down to the foot of the bed. She wanted to say something at that moment, but knew the Doctor would hush her up with no words. For now, what ever was going on, was now between these two people. 

"Who are you?" he asked for the third time.

"My real name is Harit."

The Doctor closed his eyes, and began to try to remember name. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place the name, or the face. Usually Time Lords can tell when they are dealing with other Time Lords. Even ones who have regenerated and look completely different. This Time Lord, if he was truly from the Doctors planet, bared no resemblance to any one he's ever met in 900 + years of existence. When he opened his eyes, he said just that.

Harrison laughed slightly. he began to cough again. The Doctor moved to help, but Caleb shot him a glance that said stay away. When the coughing subsided, the smile was still on his dry lips. "It's ironic, really."

"Oh, what is?" the Doctor asked.

"That of all the all the deadly creatures in the universe, the Daleks, the Cybermen and countless others, I would be struck down by tiny virus that even my Time Lord physiology cannot cure. I know when I die, I will not regenerate. The cells for that transformation are gone."

The Doctor sighed. "Harit, how did you get here?"

"I was exiled."

"Exiled? by whom?"

Harrison indicated he wanted to lie down, and Caleb lowered the ill man slowly. He reached for a towel, and wiped the perspiration from the man's brow. He then raised the sheet over the thin chest. 

"Doctor, you must understand. I had no reason to betray you. I was angry at the High Council." His voice had become hollow, and wet. the Doctor realized he had pneumonia. His lungs must have been filled with a lot of fluids. Another Earth virus that could easily kill a Time Lord. "Borusa showed me how to get revenge."

"Borusa?" It was Teagn. And she spoke the name with bitterness that even surprised the Doctor.

It began to make some sense to the Doctor. While he failed to recognize the man, the name did ring the proverbial bell. If the Doctor was right, this Harit or Harrison was a brilliant student of Temporal Mechanics. The Doctor must've read something the man had written. He was sure of that. So Barusa used him to get to me, he thought. The High Council had wronged him somehow, and Borusa used that knowledge to get Harit to help him steal the Doctor's from their time streams.

The Time Lord smiled sadly. The first rule of assassination was assassinate the assassin. It was an old ruling guide, everyone used it. But revenge is always a deadly lover. You get yourself so entwined in its passion; one always seemed to miss the obvious.

Harit seemed to know what the Doctor was thinking, for when he spoke, his voice was strong, and just tinged with bitterness. "So, what do you think? This is my contagion, and my epitaph. The payment for my pettiness."

The Doctor regarded him with a suspicious eye. He had heard this story before in many of his travels. The Master was found of drawing him into his plans when things were not going his way. On the other hand, this Harit, or Harrison, looked deadly ill. Maybe his story would prove to be different. "I don't think you wanted me here to pass judgement." The Doctor said. "Or is it forgiveness that you seek?"

Harit closed his eyes. His drawn face, and high cheek bones gave him an eerie look." No, not that. What I seek is redemption. To redeem myself to Time Lord society." His voice trailed off.

The Doctor stood up, and moved towards the window. He looked out, and saw a group of young men walking by. Two were holding hands, and looking at each other like there was nothing else around them. The other three were laughing and talking. They seemed not to notice their two other friends. Without turning, he spoke, his voice tinged with sympathy, which surprised Tegan.

"Borusa is dead, you know. A victim of his own short sightedness."

Tegan watched the man turn his head towards the Doctor. She began to wonder what was going on between the two. What did this man want? And how did he know the Doctor would be here? All these thoughts and many others were racing through her head like an out of control race car. But, she failed to speak her mind. It seemed if she did, nothing would ever get answered.

"I had guessed. Barusa was blinded by the power he thought he had. He tried to give it to me, unaware he was not really giving me anything." He licked his lips. "Now, Doctor, I need your help."

He turned from the window and looked into those brown, hurting eyes. The Doctor's compassion weald up in him. He knew he would help this man. Why, 

(_Adric_)

he could not reason at this time His shoulders sagged slightly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Rescue me from my past."

"Rescue you?" The Doctor moved from the window, and walked around the bed, with Tegan watching his every move. "Harit, how do you propose I do this?"

Harit exhaled with a rasp, his lungs filling every second with fluids. His two hearts were beating faster than they should. His mind began to close, as if a blanket were being thrown over his eyes. Death was marching like an aria. But, unlike an opera, Harit found no accompaniment. 

Time.

In the end, it all came to time. He was a Time Lord. He could travel through the cosmos, visit any place in history, in any point in the time line, yet Harit (with irony that was as large as the universe) wondered why he could not escape _this_ time. Was his involvement with Barusa so tragic and unforgiving that he could not escape a virus, that in the grand scheme of the universe, was just a minor blip in someone's guide to the galaxy?

"Doctor," he finally spoke." I know you are a very moral person. There is good and there is evil. There is also a gray area. One were People like me exist. We've lived a good life, never hurting anyone, living to live. But we are also ones who've made one error, that will cost us more than all the monies in the universe. I've never worried if I should jigged when I should of jagged. My life was good, until Barusa found my one weakness, and exploited for all that it was worth. Now as I near my end, I feel the need to rid myself of the guilt that has quietly haunted me, like a bad debt. My redemption is all that I seek."

Caleb watched all this with utter fascination. Harrison was talking like he used too. His voice, while rough and raspy, contained the old smugness that he remembered from years past. It was as if time had reversed itself, and come back on its self. He remembered back to their first night they spent together. He never intended to go to bed with him, but Caleb knew at the time that their relationship was going to have to go further if it was to succeed. The night they made love was one he'll always recollect. Sure Caleb remembered his first sexual experience with another man, but for some reason, this was different. It was as if it was the first time. 

Tegan glanced at the Doctor for some guidance, but found the Time Lords face unreadable. Turlough closed his eyes, knowing what the man was going to ask next. The question was, would the Doctor do it? Before Harit spoke, the Doctor asked the question.

"You want me to go back in time? Prevent your entanglement with Barusa? Break every law of time that I hold dear?"

Harit tried to laugh, but it came out as a hacking cough. After a few uneasy moments, he looked at his fellow Time Lord, and spoke in a voice carried a strange quality to it. "Nothing so bold, Doctor. That would be breaking the laws of time. Like I said, your history is riddled with morality. Barusa once said that it would be your undoing." The Doctor sighed. Many people, mad and sane had told him that. He did not believe it then, and knows that it's not his morality, but the corruption of others. He was there just to put a period at the end. Harit looked at Caleb sand smiled, his white, healthy teeth looking odd against a ravaged body. "But, in a way, I need you to break a minor law of time, just as I have. I need you to return to the past to protect this future. If I survive to see this time again, so much the better."

The Doctor leaned forward. "What have you done?" For the first time, Tegan noticed the anger in his voice. It took a lot to get him hot under the collar, and one was the altering of Earth's time-line. "What did you alter to get me here?"

Harit closed his eyes. He suddenly felt very sleepy. The song of death was beginning its last movement. "The answers are right before you", he whispered. "You must only open your mind to see it."

The Doctor slammed his hand down on the dresser, knocking pill bottles and glasses over. The whole room seemed to shake with his anger. "Not good enough," he roared. "Not good enough," he repeated, but with less intensity. 

Caleb stood up. He needed to protect Harrison, but before he could do anything about it, the man who claimed to be from another planet, grabbed his right arm, and with strength that betrayed his looks, pulled back to the bed.

"No," he whispered.

Caleb looked over at his lover, a shock of surprise danced over his face. "I will not allow this."

"But, you must." His voice was becoming distant, as if he was walking away from them. Harit looked over at the Doctor. But suddenly, those eyes that were so clear a moment before seemed to glass over. A slight, queer smile came over his lips. "Fire. A vast ocean of flame." The Doctor moved over to Harit, and quickly began to examine him. He put his hands on the mans chest, feeling for something. Caleb sat there, unable or unwilling to move. The Time Lord lowered his ear to the mouth of Harit, whose soft voice was becoming nonexistent.

"Harit, what are you talking about?"

"Fire," was all that came. Turlough looked from the entrance of the room where he had stood all this time. He sensed, no, he felt something leave the room. He looked around, as if hoping to see what had passed him. All he saw was small clock in the shape of a cat, its tale wagging back and forth like a pendulum. He turned his attention back to the room, and the ill man.

The Doctor leaned back on his haunches; a sad sigh escaped his lips. Tegan looked over at him, then back to the ill man. His face no longer carried a heavy burden. He looked tranquil. His eyes open, but looking at nothing.

In the morning heat, the fan on the sill continued to oscillate, unaware that the charge it was trying to cool, had slipped away into an endless night.

It was the only sound in the room.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

1

Cameron Mason, just twenty-seven, and the cub reporter of the Chicago Tribune, eased his large frame through the window of his parents' home. He normally used the front door when he came and visited, but lately the man had felt unwanted in the house he had grown up in. He had moved out three-years earlier, when his investigation into a scandal at a lumber factory inadvertently caused his father to loose a great amount of money. Cameron was never sure his father was aware, or was involved in the money laundering, but since it had become public, he had spoke little to his mother and even less to his father. 

So he packed up, and moved downtown into a small apartment near the Sherman House at Clark and Randolph. Besides, he was spending a lot of time at the paper, becoming much loved and much hated investigative reporter for the Tribune. Living on his own also gave him a chance to live his life the way he wanted too, answering to no one.

As he hardly closed the window, for despite the fact it was late September, and tree's were beginning to change, the City was still under the grip of a months long drought. Leaving it open, he turned and looked around the bedroom he used to share with his younger brother, Sam. It looked lived in, which it still was, for Sam had moved back after coming back from college a year before. He was now a fireman, which paid the bills, but little else. So he lived at home, putting money away so in a few years he could marry Carla Williams, his long-time sweet heart. Cam looked over at the bed, and saw his younger brother sleeping. He must've been tired, for he went to bed with his cloths on, and had not cleaned himself up either. His chubby face and red hair was covered in dirt and sweat. 

As Cam approached the bed, Sam opened his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was coarse after sleep, but his blue eyes betrayed him by being quite awake.

Cameron smiled slightly. "Good afternoon, my brother. I see you still are not a morning person."

"And your still an idiot," was all Sam could say. His mind was still in slumber land. He raised himself to a sitting position. He shook his head when he saw he still had his shoes on. "What are doing here?" he asked again, this time with honest curiosity.

Cameron sat down next to his brother, putting a hand on his knee. "I heard you were fighting another fire."

Sam looked at his brother. He shook his head. He hated when Cam came over asking questions about the fire department. Earlier in the year, Cam had gotten it into his head that the City was in danger of burning. This was nothing new, really. Over the years, editorials had been printed in various newspapers. Most were ignored, but some city leaders did introduce several reforms including changing the fire department from volunteer too professional. Of course, this change was due partly because volunteer companies had taken a greater interest in saving the property. As an example, a few years ago, two volunteer companies had came to fight a blaze, only to end up fighting each other on whose honor it would be to save the building. In the end, the building burnt to the ground. There was nothing to save but ash. The press had a field day with that.

Cam had sighted that other people, writers, builders, and a few travelers, who had called the city a wooden shantytown. But, it was far from it. Most of the hotels and banks and other buildings, like office blocks and commercial retail stores were constructed of brick and stone and iron. On the other hand, the Chicago Tribune had just recently put out an editorial to the fact that these buildings were shabbily constructed, that some of the best brick buildings were only one brick thick, so that their facades were ceaselessly falling into the street, and that the projecting cornices on stone builds were so wobbly, that a light breeze could bring them toppling down on pedestrians far below. As for the iron structures, most were barely secured in place. So, Cam was confident that there was some need for concern, but he found a few in his belief. It was at times like these, he would seek out his brother for some help.

For Sam, though, he would become a little leery of his brother's motives. So he asked what he wanted, and if he was still seeing that polish boy.

Cameron eyed him suspicion. Leave it to Sam to ask a good question followed by an evil one. One that he knew would drive Cam crazy. "Listen, Sam. All I want is a little info for my article. What's the big deal? And why do you care who I'm seeing?"

"It is a big deal. Every time you write an article on the city, on the fires, on the department itself, people give me looks like I'm betraying them. They think I give you information."

"You do."

"Yes, but they don't have to know that."

Cameron got up and wandered over to a table by the door. It was littered with paper clippings, photographs and a sketchpad. He lifted the paper and saw that his brother's talent was getting stronger. Without turning, he asked Sam how his parents were.

His eyes narrowed with concern, "The usual. Dad still is complaining about loosing the money." Sam got up and moved over to the water bowel next to the window. He splashed water on his face.

"And Mother?"

As he dried his face, Sam let out a big sigh. "She's still the quiet soft spoken women who will do anything her husbands says."

"Including not talking to me?"

Sam walked over to him, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Well, in a way, yes. But she does have a letter for you."

Cameron turned to his brother, a smile on his face. Sam picked up the drawing pad, and paged through it, until he came to a blank page with an envelope in between the pages. He handed it over to his brother. Cameron took it, and was about to open it, but decided to wait. He asked Sam if they were here.

Sam returned to the wash basin, and took off his shirt." No, they mentioned they were going to see Grandma up in Peshtigo. The old girl is not doing so good."

Cameron looked over at his younger brother, and wondered how Sam got to be more popular than he was. Younger siblings always had to live in the shadows of the older ones. This family was different. Sam took all the glory, while Cam came off as Cameron, Sam's brother. Still, it wasn't that bad. Cam could be whom he was, with little possibility of his family finding out. He didn't want to know the consequences if his parents found out whom he slept with.

"He's doing fine."

Sam stopped washing and looked over at his brother. " I beg your pardon?"

"Joshua. He's doing fine." Cameron said shyly.

Sam went on cleaning himself, but he began to smile. About six years ago, Sam had discovered his older brothers' passion for young men. At the time, it seemed Cameron would bed any guy that came along, but two years ago he met a twenty year old man by the name of Joshua Kawalski. For all intents and purpose, the two were married. Still, the families of both would be shocked beyond belief if the ever found out.

Sam went over to a closet, and poked around until he found a clean shirt. Then he lowered himself and found a clean under shirt. He threw both on the bed, then sat down beside them.

"Do you love him?" Sam asked suddenly. Cameron turned to his younger brother, a surprised look on his face. 

"Who, Josh?"

"Yes."

Cam leaned against the dresser, and let out a sigh. Ironically, that very same thought had been going through his head the last few weeks. This was his longest relationship, and he was wondering were it was going to go. It was not safe to tell people who they were, and what they did. Could they live a lie forever? He had asked Josh the same question, but the boy had shrugged his shoulders, saying that he was very happy with the way things were, and maybe they should not try to fix what wasn't broken.

"Very much."

Sam lowered his head. It was hard for him at first to deal with his brothers' homosexuality. His religion called it an illness, and doctors called it even worse. Sam had found out what some doctors did to men when they found out what they did in bed. It frightened him at first, but then he realized his brother was no different than anybody else. He was the same. He just slept with men instead of women. So what, Sam said to himself, I can deal with that. And he has for six years. He loved his older brother, and despite his fathers' wishes, he even looked up to him. 

"Good", he finally said. "Now, what do you want to know?"

2

Cameron Mason made his way north on Michigan Avenue, towards The Chicago Tribune's office on Dearborn Street. He was looking over his notes that he taken from Sam, and was paying little attention, when a man bumped into him, knocking nearly off his feet. 

"Hey!" cried Cameron. He looked at the man, and was shocked to discover a very handsome, but quiet disheveled looking man staring at him, with a look that almost screamed "watch where you are going". He man had long blonde hair that hung at his shoulders, with a shirt that clung so tight, that the few buttons he could get in their eye sockets, looked like they were about to burst from the strain. His pants were quiet opposite of shirt. They were oversized, and he was clutching them with his left hand at his waist. His feet were bare. The stranger looked at Cameron, giving the young reporter the impression that he was being sized up for his cloths. When he spoke, the voice was soft and almost proper.

"Where am I, and what is the year?"

Cam took a few steps back, and looked around. Some people had noticed what was going on, and stopped to stare. The young man was aware of how close he was to an area that had become the shame on the city. It was just a bum, a poor man with nothing. He felt compelled to turn away and run, but Cameron stood still for a moment, his mind racing. For some reason, as he reckoned later, there was something about this man that told his brain to tell the man what he wanted to know.

"Chicago," Cam finally said. The man looked at the small crowd of people, and then at the buildings around the avenue. He stepped closer to Cameron, who seemed not to able to move. He was staring at the man's blue eyes, swept up in their clarity.

"What is the year?" the man asked again, this time his voice was edged with a grit that sent a quiver down Cameron's spine.

"1871. September 30th to be exact." Cameron finally backed away. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. His notebook and pencil slid to the sidewalk, hardly making a noise. The man turned once again to the crowd of people, and like a swift breeze, was gone up an alley.

For what seemed like hours, but lasted only a few seconds, Cam stood looking at the alley were the man had disappeared. His mind raced with thoughts on what he had just experienced. He tried to fathom why a person would ask such odd questions (the fact that he answered the man never seemed to enter his mind). Slowly, he picked up his pad and pencil. He noticed that the people, who had stopped and watch this bizarre show, had moved off. 

Unlike most people, who took little notice of how the city was changing in such a few short years, Cam had a deep interest in its past. He would often spend hours at the Chicago Historical Society building at the corner of Dearborn and Ontario. There he had learned about how the city had grown from its humble beginnings as a trading post at Fort Dearborn, on some marshy ground near Lake Michigan; how Chicago was plotted and surveyed in 1830 and the story of one Daniel P. Cook, who legend has it never stepped a foot in the county for which it is named. Soon after, the post office was established and then came a lighthouse, saw mill and the first bridge that stretched across the River. When the village of Chicago was organized in 1833, it had fewer than 100 inhabitants, including Cameron's grandparents. The many new immigrants joined the fur traders, gamblers, land speculators, Indians and soldiers (though by 1835, 80 percent of the population had been there less than a year). But soon, the Indians would be driven from the city. After numerous tangles with mostly the Sauk and Fox tribes lead by chief Black Hawk, the United States government decided to expel all the Indians from the southern end of Lake Michigan to the Mississippi. In early 1835, 5000 Patawatomi Indians gathered in Chicago bid a last farewell to their old hunting grounds and went west in search of new homes (by 1836 the soldiers would soon follow next; Fort Dearborn was shut down and, has been slowly slipping into death). 

When the 1870 census was finished, Chicago had counted their people at 344,000. The city encompassed an area of six miles north to south and three miles wide from the Lake west, on 23,000 acres at a value of well over $620 million, and Michigan Avenue had in recent years grown into one of the most stylish areas of Chicago. Many town homes and apartments with splendid terraces overlooked the shore of the lake, which seemed to extend forever, along with the railroad tracks that ran adjacent the breakwater. Near 12th Street and Michigan Avenue stood Park Row, a fashionable area of city, its architecture born not of Greek Revival that a had swept the city in its early years, but Victorian in nature, with tall arched windows. Further north was the stadium of the Chicago White Stockings baseball, and stretching from the Chicago River almost a mile south to Harrison street was the business district. Many of the city's finest department stores were located on State Street, along with the Palmer House, which is one of the tallest buildings in town.

But the South Side did have one area that failed to live up to the opulence of State Street, an area that was very close to the business district, an area that was by no means impressive. It was a small section south of Randolph, running from Wells Street west to the river. Conley's Patch, as it was called, was a neighborhood that was a stretch of cheap saloons and brothels, with pawnshops, unappealing one-story shacks and boardinghouses thrown together like a patch of weeds. Some had tried to improve the area, but like a true nuisance, if you didn't get at the root, it was going to come back. That it did, and that was the true nature of the problem. 

Cameron tried to write an editorial on the subject, but found his boss was very unreceptive to the idea. Cameron knew why, even before his boss mentioned that the problem was not that bad and why stirs up a hornet's nest when you didn't have too. Despite the nastiness about the fires of the past years, the subject of Conley's Patch seemed to be deemed nothing. He was told to forget about it. The article was still in his desk, waiting for a more enlighten time. 

In the morning heat, Mason turned and headed back to his offices. His mind raced with just a few thoughts. One was concerning the article on last night's fire, and the other was the strange man who had run into him. He was suddenly filled with the urge to find out who this man was.

3

Harit held his breath, his hearts racing. Blood poured through his veins like flood gates set on wide open.

All of it was making sense. Borusa was stealing the Doctor and his companions from Earth's time-streams. When he used the Time Scoop, he sent Harit down a time-corridor that was locked on Earth. Why he ended up here, at this time in history was a puzzle, but it also meant that he was trapped on this planet for a long time.

He cursed himself for not keeping up on his histories of planets in his Temporal Mechanics class. Earth, despite its increased influence in historical matters in the universe, was a boring planet. As far as he was concerned, the planet didn't get interesting until 3001. What a time to be without his "History of the Universe" or that pedantic Hitchhiker's Guide.

Harit moved down the alley, taking in the scenes of this barbaric culture. It was so bizarre to see such a run down, forgotten area, jammed up against the beauty of the city. What Harit had seen, this Chicago was a very impressive place for the time. He had spent hours, since leaving the barn, wandering around. He had gone from rich to poor areas in a single eye blink. From a beaten shack that some one called a home, to buildings that marveled the senses.

As Harit came out on a less crowded street, he paused for a moment. He began to think of the man he ran into. He was just a kid, but for some odd reason, this child, this human, made Harit uneasy. The Time Lord remembered how he looked when he bumped into him. How he looked like he was about to yell, but stopped. This human seemed to be intrigued with him. Harit had been noticed. It was something he realized when he first started out this morning. Most people saw him wandering down the street, asking about where he was and what year it was. Most just seemed too not to see him, or they walked across the road, or just turned and went back the way they came. In some ways, even his fellows Gallifreyans have forsaken their people. The Shobogans, who disagreed with the actions of their fellow Time Lords, now roamed the wastelands of outer Gallifrey. When some were let back in, most ignored them. 

Harit snorted, not liking the idea that there was some kind of constant in the universe.

Still, this human had intrigued him. The creature seemed to enjoy his unease. He shook his head, and discovered that the one thing he really disliked about this new body: the hair. It got in his eyes, and he was quickly getting tired of removing it from them. Brushing it aside, he glanced back down the alley. If he was stuck on some backwater planet in a backward time period, he was going to have to make the most of it. And that started with finding a place to stay. As he made off back down the alley, he began to wonder how he was going to find that human.

4

The morning turned into the afternoon, and the body of Harrison was removed. It became apparent to Tegan, that there were groups of people who helped out when the time came. Hospice workers, Caleb had called them. She was surprised at all people that came and left the apartment. Some cried, others just sat for a few moments, remembering a friend who had lost a battle. It was with these people, that the former airhostess learned about true family. No one was judgmental, even the priest that visited, and gave last rites, seemed to be sadden by this death. This went against everything she was taught about people who were gay. She had been told they led lonely, unproductive lives. They were perverted, and their families would hate them. 

But, what she saw today, changed her mind in some ways. Even if Caleb's family had turned away from him (who he hadn't spoken to in nearly 5 years), he discovered another family that embraced him, and understood him and accepted who he was. Tegan was surprised to hear that some religious organizations seemed to coming around in their views. However, she knew that there would still be people out there who hated men like Caleb and Harrison.

A thought had occurred to Tegan after a while, and she asked the Doctor about it. She had wondered how an alien, and one who was so ill, would not have been detected as an alien. After all, Time Lords do have two hearts. Did human drugs work the same way as alien drugs? How would he get a doctor to give him such medicine? 

The Doctor shrugged, not really knowing. He told Tegan that the current drug regimen was excruciating, that most AIDS patients must take up to twenty pills a day. How these effected a Time Lord physiology, he didn't know. Galliffrians were not human, but like the Doctor, who's half-human heritage was a well kept secret, was sure that any Time Lord who came in contact with such a virus as HIV, would have difficulty fighting it. 

He had looked at the bottles that were on the dresser after Harrison had died. The Doctor was aware vaguely of the recent advances in the drug treatments for people with HIV and AIDS. It was possible, he guessed that some of these protease inhibitors --new classes of drugs that treat these infected people-- were helping many gay men, and a great many were responding well to them. Still others were not. Most likely, he finally told her, that Harit could get his hands on anything. All Time Lords are telepathic, and if used, one can persuade almost anyone.

Wonderful, she thought.

As evening fell, the apartment emptied, leaving Caleb and his new friends alone. The heat of day seemed to dim a bit as the night began to creep into the western sky. They sat and ate some of the food that people had brought over, giving Tegan a slight smile. She always found it odd that people brought food over to comfort the grieving. It was a nice tradition, but still a little odd. After a good meal, she tried to change the subject with the Doctor and Turlough, but, in the end, sadness overwhelmed her, and she moved away from her two companions and Caleb.

She moved through the apartment, taking in some of furnishings, most which appeared to her as being very old and expensive. She signed, feeling like some of the antiques. In the enclosed deck area at the back of the apartment, Tegan discovered a big chair and a room filled with many books. She sat down and looked out the window, which faced the west. The sky was tinged in red hues. It looked to be on fire. Like the sky, her thoughts were a storm of confusion and sadness. She didn't know what to feel. It was as if that part of her did not exist anymore. For some odd reason, she thought she lost a good friend. Which was odd, due to the fact the conversation all had taken place with in a span of twenty minutes. Was the fact that he was a Time Lord have anything to do with it? Was she so connected to the Doctor that even the sad death of another of his race, made her feel like it was him?

No, she reasoned. She had seen the death of a few Time Lords, Hedin and Omega being the first. So it was illogical from her point of view, to feel any sorrow for this Time Lord. But, she was human, and Turlough had pointed out her many times, how distressing he found us emotional creatures. Sentiment, he had said to her, would be our undoing. When pressed about what he meant by "our undoing", Turlough would shut up and leave a very confused girl.

She looked around the small deck area, and took in, for the first time, the immense collection of books. She raised herself to get a look at the titles, discovering they appeared to be history books. She reached and picked up the first title on the pile. It was a history of Chicago during the 1920's. A tale about its prohibition years and a biography of its greatest villain, Al Capone. Still another was on its grand architecture. Another on serial killers of the early 20th century, and one on the Great Chicago Fire. She was about to page through the large red tome, when the Doctor walked in. He scanned the area, and gently played his fingers over the books. He looked out the window, staring at nothing in particular.

"What do we do now, Doctor?"

The Doctor held his gaze for a few moments, then spoke. "I don't know, Tegan."

Tegan rolled her eyes. "With all due respect, I'm tired of you saying that."

The Time Lord turned, and gave her a half-hearted, but stern look. A slight sigh escaped his tight lips. "So am I," he admitted. He sat down on the floor next to Tegan.

The former airhostess looked at him, for she was shocked. It was few and far between when the Doctor would acknowledge he had made an error. She didn't know what to say. And for a girl stuck with the moniker of "a mouth with legs", this was quite astounding. 

"Why didn't he regenerate?" she asked, changing the subject.

The Doctor was about to say that he did not know, but stopped himself. He guessed if he took a while, and looked at it deeply, he would be able to figure it out. Looking over at the books, he took leap of faith.

"Most likely the virus destroyed the cells of the regeneration process. Humans and Time Lords share a few traits. Our immune system, while much stronger, would most likely fall by the way side, when attacked by such an aggressive virus."

Tegan reflected on that for a few moments, admitting to herself she understood little of her own human body, let alone the Doctor's. She turned her attention to the books again. She picked one up.

"Someone sure likes Chicago history."

"He was obsessed with it," a soft voice spoke. The two travelers turned and saw Caleb standing next to them. Both had failed to notice his arrival. He now looked older than he did when Tegan first saw him. His face was drawn and ashen looking. His bright eyes of this morning had dimmed like the last remains of dying fire. His arms were crossed tight to his chest. Sometime during that last half-hour, he had lost his shoes, for he stood bare foot behind them. "He bought every new book that came out on the history of the city."

"Why all the interest?" Tegan asked.

Caleb sighed, and looked at her. "During our time together, he felt he owed me little explanation of his actions. Over the years, I let him do what ever he felt."

"Now there's something to build a healthy relationship"

"Tegan!" abolished the Doctor.

"No, Doctor, she is right." Caleb walked into the room, and stared out the window, looking at the same things the Doctor did. "We had a very weird, and very dysfunctional love affair. It seemed we go out of our ways to hurt each other, and then make up like nothing had ever happened. His history books was the one place he could hide, when our fights got out of control."

"What was yours?" Tegan asked softly, her voice suddenly filled with compassion. Her eyes began to mist over; she suddenly hated Turlough even more.

Caleb let out a slight sputter of laughter. "School, mostly." He turned to the two travelers. "I was studying to be a Doctor. Like so many of us who had infected loved ones, I wanted to be the one to find the Cure. Still, though, I find myself sometimes in church, wondering where my God was."

Tegan lowered her gaze, as finally a tear slid down her face. She swore. Talk about becoming involved in other people's lives. Trying to hide her face, she moved over to the pile of books, and spoke gently, "What era did he arrive in?"

Both Caleb and the Doctor turned to her. " I beg your pardon," the Doctor asked.

She turned and faced them, a big red book in her hands. "What time period did he say he arrived?"

Caleb shrugged. "Like I said, he told little of his past."

"But you had to have some clue."

" I have suspicions."

The Doctor looked at the book, then at Tegan, and then to Caleb. He suddenly realized were she was going. He smiled inward. It seemed this former airhostess, and big pain in the rear end, had finally learned something. He was about to say something, but decided this was Tegan's show.

"Where?" 

Caleb turned to the books. He remembered, he explained to the Doctor and Tegan, when they first moved in together, he had commented on Harrison's collection. He had noticed they were mostly history titles, with a large amount dealing with the Great Lakes area of the Midwest. He also had a large collection dealing with European history as well. He had asked Harrison what he was doing with the titles, but all he would say was that he was doing research. When probed, as Caleb tended to do early in their relationship, Harrison had said he was looking for someone. At first, Caleb never asked who it was, but over the years, Caleb would get the courage to ask. But Harrison, the ever-beautiful man whose eyes held a dark harvest of mystery, was very tight lipped. 

About five years into their marriage (Tegan thought that was such an odd use of the word), Caleb said he became very interested in who Harrison was. So when his partner was out, Caleb went over his books, trying to figure out who the man was. It would take nearly a year of probing, but he soon came to realize that the man he loved was not from this planet. How he knew, Caleb was unsure. He didn't have any intergalactic passport or any sort of birth record, but as the puzzle pieces came together, Caleb began to understand Harrison's obsession with the past. It meant a great deal to him. 

"Fire," he whispered. He turned to face the two travelers. His face was awash with the knowledge that everything finally fell into place, like a golf ball into its hole. "He bought and read every book on the Great Chicago Fire. Is it possible that he came here during that time?" 

"That was 130 years ago," the Doctor said. 

Caleb smiled. "I know what you are going to say. That the man who now lies dead on that bed, could not be a 130 years old."

"No," the Doctor muttered. "I know he was much older." The Time Lord looked at Tegan, and smiled slightly. She had worked this out for herself. He was proud. He was about to say that exactly, when she spoke again.

"Doctor, was he looking for you?"

The Doctor turned away. He walked towards the room that had contained the body of Harit, his thoughts a big jumble of unanswered questions. "It's a possibility. But, if he lived these last 130 years here, he would've been part of this time-line."

"Meaning?"

"Well, Tegan, look at this way. He arrives sometime before, during or after the fire. He lives here, making a life for himself and eventually dies here today. He's become part of this history. I suppose he could've been curious how he was interacting with this time stream, seeing if he was causing any historical anomalies. If memory serves, he was brilliant in Temporal Mechanics. But since he lived this time-line, the idea he was looking for me, is a little far fetched."

"End of story?" asks Caleb.

The Doctor looked at him. Caleb was turning to out to be a very unusual person. He didn't follow all those predictable human traits. He knew he was dealing with an alien, he knew the Doctor was an alien, yet he stood before him with an open mind that the Doctor rarely comes across. 

"No, I do believe there is something we are missing. There is some connection to his interest in the past, and my arrival today. We must figure out how he knew I'd be here, and what, if any, did he do to get me here."

"Could he have altered something?" It was Turlough's voice. Everyone turned to him, surprised at his sudden interest.

"What do you mean?" asked Caleb.

Turlough moved to the books, and picked up a title at random. "Doctor, you've proven to me and Tegan that you know when someone is fooling with the course of Earth's history. Our recent trip to 1215 is a prime example."

"So, you think Harrison altered something in the past?" asked Caleb, The Doctor moved over to Turlough, taking the book from his hand. He glanced at the title; it was on Chicago's netherworld of 1880 to 1920. Following Turlough's line of thinking the Doctor sat down, and closed his eyes. Ever since their arrival, he felt he was missing something. It was a sensation so strong that he felt he needed to check his bottomless pockets, or run to the door to see if something was passing by. Could this be the answer to that lost something? Could Harit have changed the past? 

The Time Lord wished he still had K9. He would be able to sort out this mess. The Doctor pondered for a moment on trying to contact Romana, but quickly dismissed it. It could take weeks just to track a CVE, and if he found one, it was no guarantee he could get a message to her. No, the only logical thought was go with Turlough's idea that somehow, Harit had altered something in the past. It could not have been something major, due to the fact that if he had altered the time-line in the late 19th century, the Time Lords would have either sent the Celestial Intervention Agency to investigate, or most likely had sent the Doctor.

So what was it?

5

The afternoon warmth gave a way to a pleasant evening, a light southwestern breeze blew through the dusty streets of Chicago, and Cameron sat on his terrace, smoking a cigarette.

Behind him, the sheer curtain moved with the wind. Abaft of the curtains, Josh Kawalski moved between the rooms, humming a song that Cameron did not recognize. He had a pleasant voice, Josh. He was a singer and part-time actor. All the ladies and even a few men adored him. He was tall, and very thin, with dark brown hair, seductive brown eyes, and a smooth face. Add a smile that could melt even the most coldly of hearts, and you had an almost perfect companion. At twenty-two, he had already decided where he wanted to go, and who would be with him in years to come. It was the fact that he knew his own destiny that bothered Cam the most. For he never believed in love at first site, until he met this laughing boy two years ago. When he was sixteen, and had become aware of his attraction to other men, Cam became good at being the deceptive child, going to places that most decent people would never go. He would conjure up lies like a master magician, creating stories that were so detailed, that one could never accept the fact he was lying. He reflected later, that this was the reason he took so quickly to journalism. His story telling ability, and his unerring ways of getting under people's skin, made him a natural. 

But he also became cynical during that time. He found ways to explore his sexual awakening, yet he also discovered how a dirty little secret this life was. The revelation of hypocrisy that existed at so many levels shocked him. He often remembered seeing men of upper class lives claim how terrible and disgusting the acts that these depraved men did, when later they would arrive in Conley's Patch, in non-descript clothing looking for some poor boy. 

It was then, that he vowed he would never fall in love. He hated seeing those boys, who were really only starved for attention, waiting for some rich gentleman from the North side to come and sweep them away. Which was what they always thought would happen. Of course, some did leave. They were never seen again, which made Cam wonder what truly happened to them. Conley's Patch was a den of gossip, and you never took any story as gospel. But, after a while, with tales of how some boys and girls were killed after being taken away by their gentleman callers, you began to wonder if there wasn't a least a thread of truth running through the whispers.

When Josh came into his life two years ago, Cameron was just beginning his work at the Tribune, and was doing a piece on the Chicago Theatre --they were doing a revival of **_She Stoops to Conquer_** --, when he made eye contact with this devilishly handsome young man. Something registered between him and the actor, and Cam instantly wanted to be near him. But, it would take a month before they actually got to speak to one another. 

Once together, they spent as much time as they could with each other. They took great efforts to hide what was going on, but most of the people who were involved with the theater, knew that they were more than just good friends. It came as quite a shock to Cam that not only did they not care, but they also seemed to approve it. 

Now though, things were changing in both their lives. Josh had been offered a position in a Broadway production in New York. While it was still six months away, he seemed to agonize over if he should go. Meanwhile, Cam was beginning to be taken serious in the Chicago press, and felt if he left now, he would lose more than he would gain. While Cam could most likely get a job at any newspaper in New York, he knew that he would some sort of entry-level position. He would be doing theater critic stuff, while he wanted the tough stories that made the front page.

While, by nature, not a competitive person, he still felt the sting of losing the front page. Cam's thoughts were disrupted by the voices in the streets below. He crushed out his smoke, and stood up. He leaned over the edge of the balcony, and, in the waning light of summer, saw a group of people surrounding another person on the corner of Clark. The gas lit streets gave off only small pools of yellow glitter, and Cameron had to strain to see whom these people were pointing at. 

The voices that streamed up from the street sounded angry and accusative. What Cam could see, the man in the middle was the center of that reproachful gang. He tried to peer into the puddle of light, but failed to see just who the person was. Soon, the voices began to rise, and Cam could make out a few words. He was about to go downstairs to find out what was going on, when Chicago's finest showed up, and broke up the crowd. He listened with his head cocked to one side, trying to hear. Then, the police pushed the man into the pool of light. Cam straightened up; realizing the man was the same one who accosted him earlier in the day.

He backed up a bit, hoping the man didn't see him. Soon though, he realized that he was well protected in the early evening darkness, so he leaned back over the railing and watched the man. Cam noticed that while his feet were still bare, he seemed to have found a pair of pants that fit, for he was using his hands to fight the police. They got him quickly into handcuffs just as a horse drawn wagon came around the corner. He was quickly thrown in, but Cam saw the man look up. Cameron drew in a quick breath as their eyes locked. He fell back into his chair. He held that breath for what seemed like hours, his mind a whirlwind of questions. When he finally let it out, he leaned over the edge and looked back down in the street. The police were gone, and only a few people muddled around. Within a few moments, Clark Street moved along like nothing was wrong.

Cameron Mason felt different, though. He was suddenly filled with the unwanted sensation of curiosity. This was the second time in only a few hours he had seen this person. In a city of over three hundred thousand, ones mind could never imagine the odds. Was this some sort of sign?

Cam turned and looked through the shear drapes. Pale light was filtering out, and he could see the dark outline of Josh moving around. The young man loved keeping the place neat and tidy, despite the hectic, vagabond lifestyle of an actor.

It was another thing that Cam loved about Josh, but now things seemed to be in some sort of flux. Would Josh go to New York, and would he follow. Or would he stay, and climb up the ladder of success at the Tribune? 

Cam closed his eyes, and turned back to the street. He looked at the dusty road, watching people roam the avenue. A light wind blew, raising the leaves that were falling from the tree's that were beginning be effected by the change of season; they scattered like frightened mice. 

For the first time in a long time, Cameron felt the same.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

1

During the night, the Doctor and his companions returned to the comfort of the TARDIS. A word was not spoken between them, and as they entered the console room, both Tegan and Turlough headed towards their rooms. the Doctor stood for a moment, pondering the view screen, which was left on. The city skyline was lit up, and even at night, Chicago impressed him. 

Then he headed towards the corridor. He wasn't sure where he was going, but decided that he needed to think. The TARDIS was good for one thing, and that was pondering your thoughts. It seemed to know the feelings of the individuals who habituated in her, and tried to help set a peaceful mood. For the Doctor, his time machine was a savior but also burdensome. He enjoyed the time he could spend wandering its endless rooms, yet he knew eventually, it would take him to a place where he was needed; where his destiny was. 

He paused at the entrance to Adric's room. The door was like another door in this part of the TARDIS, white and with big roundels. For a stranger, looking at these halls, they would be lost, for everything looked the same. He inhaled deeply, tasting the sweet rose smell the TARDIS gave off. He held it, and his two hearts beat a sublime togetherness. He reached up with his right hand and touched the cool metal handle. He let his long fingers slide around it, feeling the smoothness to it. The coldness.

Adric's face swam into his mind's eye. The boy, his moppet brown hair flowing much longer than the style, covered his forehead. There was that innocent smile, and those dark brown eyes that held a mischievous mind. A brilliant mind of mathematical computation. I wonder what the odds are that he would figure out this situation before I do, thought the Doctor. He suddenly pushed the door open. The room was near dark, with a pale night-light coming from behind the wall by his closet. He stepped in, and instantly the lights came back on. It startled the Doctor, but he regained his composure.

He looked over at the bed, which was made up neatly. A few objects lay on top the blue green covers. Most was things that Adric collected from his brief adventures with him. The Doctor smiled sadly; Adric was always lifting things that did not belong to him. Sill, the memories are sweet. 

He wandered over to the bed, and sat down. On the nightstand by the bed was a pad of paper and a pencil. Leave it to Adric to use the old fashion way of calculating the randomness of a CVE. The Doctor picked up the pad, and thumbed through the calculations. He had wanted to ask Adric why he never used a computer to aid him, but realized that maybe even a computer as advanced as the one on the TARDIS, could never figure out the odds of random numbers in an infinite universe.

The Doctor had never second-guessed his inability to save the boy. When the freighter plunged back in Earth's past by 65 million years, he knew that a sacrifice would be needed to make sure that the timeline would unfold like it was suppose to. The one thing the Doctor failed to predict, the one time when he really ignored Chaos, was who would be that person. Why was it Adric? Why was a brilliant boy, who would've probably grown up to be a great mathematical scientist, had to die so young?

Was Tegan right? Could have I taken the TARDIS back to just before the freighter crashed into Earth, and saved Adric? Would of, could of, should of. But the answer was there all the time. He failed to explain it very well to either Tegan or Nyssa. But what would be the point? Adric was dead; was destined to die millions of years before he was born. As he continued to look at the numbers, he came upon some writing. It was Adric's handwriting. The Doctor scanned the pages, totaling nearly two dozen, before he came back to the beginning. But, he didn't need to fully read it. By his scanning, the Doctor discovered that even Adric knew he was fated to die. He didn't say it in so many words, but it was obvious from his musings that he felt he would die young. 

The Doctor lowered the pad to his lap, and looked up at the ceiling. He knew he could never save Adric, but could he save this Harrison, or Harit? Could he go back in time. Should he go back in time? Of course, if he has altered something in the past, he'll have to go and find out what it is. 

He set the pad back on the night table, and stood up. His Time Lord people had renounced their intervention in other people's affairs eon's ago, mainly due to the destructive nature of creatures through out the galaxies. Though they would admit, from time to time, it was necessary to "become involved" in some planets evolution. These involvement's were done in secret, so if things when dreadfully wrong, as it has before, they could not be blamed. Sometimes, the Doctor wondered who was the guiltier, he or his people. 

He stood up and walked out, taking one more brief look at was Adric's room. As he closed the door, the Doctor had made up his mind. If he couldn't help Adric, maybe he could save Harrison from one of the deadliest virus' that ever surfaced in the universe.

2

When morning came, Tegan and Turlough entered the main console room to find the Doctor stooped over the main computer terminal. His blond, thin hair was messed up, and his blue eyes, despite the brightness in them betrayed a weariness that indicated to the two that he had been up all night. Not that the Time Lord needed that much sleep. Indeed, Tegan had guess that the only time the Doctor ever slept, was when he was knocked unconscious. This, she thought with mild amusement, was happening a lot.

The Doctor looked up, and smiled slightly. "I hope you slept good."

Tegan frowned. Far from it, she thought. When they returned hours ago, she felt tired, and run down. Her body had felt like a mechanical toy that had been left on. When she went to bed, though, sleep did not come so easy. She tossed, as she tried to settle her mind, but found her brain wanted to figure things out. After a few hours, she eventually fell asleep, but her dreams were filled with too many disjointed images for her to get a good rest. When she finally woke and looked at the clock, she was thankful it was time to get up.

Now, as she stood looking at the Doctor, she wanted to complain, but instead said yes, and thanked him for asking. Turlough said nothing, though Tegan did notice that it appeared he did not get a lot of sleep either. She moved over to him, and looked at the small computer screen. She asked what he was doing.

It was the Doctor's turn to frown. He looked at the terminal, and then at the viewer, which still showed the Chicago skyline. "I've been trying to figure out just how Harit changed the timeline, with out causing a major historical anomaly that CIA never picked up on."

"Does it have to major?" Turlough asked walking over to the view screen. "I mean, Doctor, does every change cause a bump in the timeline?" 

"No, your right in some way," the Doctor said cautiously. "But, it really depends on your point of view when it comes to time travel intervention."

Tegan rolled her eyes. How typical, she thought. The Doctor loved to make these obliquely annoying scientific statements, just waiting for some innocent, naive, earthling girl to ask: Why, Doctor, whatever do you mean? So, as not to give him the satisfaction, she stood her ground, waiting either for Turlough or the Doctor himself to continue.

It was Turlough who finally spoke. Tegan was disappointed he didn't ask a question, but maintained the Doctor's line of thinking. "So you're saying that the butterfly theory does not exist."

The Doctor smiled, and looked at Tegan. She just stared back, but before he could say a thing, she spoke up. "The theory being that if you went back in time, and stepped on say, a butterfly, it could have serious effects along the timeline"

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and let out a slight snort. It seemed he once again had over estimated Tegan. He went over to her, and put an arm around her. "In theory, yes Tegan. Of course, your Einstein once said breaking the time barrier was not possible. Still here we are."

"So how does Harit alter something in the past, with out ever being detected." Turlough wanted to know. He looked at the view screen, then at the Doctor. "Unless, you go with the idea that there are parallel timelines."

"Very, good," the Doctor said, clapping his hands. Tegan moved away, feeling like a patient in an operating room with 20 physicians talking all at one time, with none of the saying anything that could come close to being understood. She sat down in the chair, and watched, helpless, yet strangely fascinated by the conversation. The Doctor turned to her and spoke softly, but not in a condescending tone. "Early time travel theorist felt there was no way you could have a changeable past. That idea even kept early Time Lords afraid to travel, because no one could really prove you could change the past without effecting the future. So, many eons ago, a few of my fellow Time Lords proposed a theory that time did not flow in a linear fashion, because like most, they were trying to cover all the paradoxes that kept popping up. A whole college industry, that would eventually called Temporal Mechanics, was born from that single idea. So they sat around for a while and tried to figure out how you could have a changeable past and avoid those paradoxes. Finally, they theorized that when we traveled in time, it wasn't just forward and backwards along a liner highway, but we actually traveled a different timeline; parallel to the main, linear highway." 

"Okay, Doctor, you've got me confused." Tegan moaned.

The Doctor moved over to her and scrunched down on his haunches. "Think of this way, Tegan, for you time moves like a road that stretches far into the distance. Now as you travel this road, you are on a linear path of time that moves forward. And for millenium, it was thought that time travelers just went up and down that road."

"But, you can travel backwards on that same road." Turlough put in. The Doctor nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, but here it becomes the tricky part, some of those presumptuous Temporal Mechanic students thought up the idea that there _is_ one main road, a center if you wish, but there were also other lanes of his main road; alternate roads where the timeline has unfolded differently. Where people, places, and events are the same, but are unfolding in a completely different manner."

Tegan looked at the Doctor, then at Turlough. For a brief moment, she wanted to holler, and get off this one bus ride to Hell, but decided that once again, she would stay. Still, she wanted to ask a few questions, but thought she would stay silent for the moment. 

The Doctor stood and walked over to the TARDIS console and danced his fingers over the touchpad keyboard. "Essentially, Tegan, what happens is someone, we, or what ever, journeys into the past and changes history. Here, then, reality splits into two versions -one road depicting the changed history, and the other road is were the original reality exists before the change."

Tegan sighed. She had been curious, at first, on how all of this time stuff worked. While not a scientist in any sense of the word, she had seen enough of science fiction, been enough science classes, to get the idea that time travel could not happen and that the past was the past; that it was inviolable. Of course, here she was, in a time machine that had just left 12th Century Earth, so what did she know? "So what you are saying is that, according to you, the entire universe is splitting along every alternate decision?'

"Well, we Time Lords are fifth-dimensional thinkers," the Doctor muttered. Tegan had no idea what that meant. "But, yes, you are right. Once the theory of many worlds was proving somewhat correct, the fallout came with the knowledge that there is an infinity of universes being created."

"So how does one find out what the true universe is?"

The Doctor looked at Turlough, hoping that he might be able to help, but saw the young man's eyes had wandered. He sighed. "Most of us Time Lords do not believe there is an ultimate true time-line. Maybe at one time, there was, but because of the interference of many species, which have achieved time travel capabilities, the true time-line has become corrupted." Tegan looked confused, and the Doctor had to admit he himself was getting embroiled in a conflict he did not want to get absorbed in. Time travel theory was one of least favorite subjects, and he vowed he never worry about the implications of altering the past. That's what the Web of Time was all about, and he was sticking to his guns, so to speak.

Turlough moved over to the Doctor. "Of course, if that theory is to work, we are now in an alternate timeline, and not the true time. "

The Doctor looked up. "Yes, however, Earth has always been one to defy the Laws of Time."

"So you are saying that this is an alternate timeline, that Harrison disrupted something in the past, and now all of the Earth has jumped the main road of time, onto another road which runs parallel to the main?"

The Doctor looked at Tegan, and a smile crept over his face. "Now, you've got it"

Tegan looked up in disbelief. She suddenly felt like muttering something about that she really did not know what she was talking about, but stopped herself. She did not want to become in involved in some Abbot and Costello routine that this conversation seemed to be headed too.

"So, now what do we do?" asked Tegan, finally. She stood up and walked over to the doors, which stood open." Harrison's dead. He won't be talking any time soon. And Caleb, has no idea when he arrived."

The Doctor turned to her. "He does, in away. It seems logical that Harit arrived sometime around the Great Chicago Fire."

"Yes, but could he have altered something then, that now has taken a hundred and thirty years to get the TARDIS to notice?" asked Turlough. 

"I suppose it was something small, and not major to the future..." the Doctor suddenly stopped. Both Turlough and Tegan stared at him. "Turlough, you mentioned something about our recent trip to 1215."

"Yes, the Master was trying to prevent the signing of this Magna Carta."

"Exactly, a major historical event. If those creeds were never signed, Earth's history would have been different. But we arrived as the event was taking place. Not before or after. So our appearance now means the events that lead up to our arrival today are still going on."

"So, based on your parallel time idea," Tegan intoned, "could there be an Earth where the say Magna Carta was never signed?"

"Not really, Tegan. The parallel time theory contends that most historical occurrences, such as the Magna Carta, did happen only that principles might have been slightly different." The Doctor returned his gaze to the Chicago skyline. "No, Harit altered something, but in the grand picture of historical events, it was just a minor blip."

"A minor blip?" Tegan blurted. "Doctor, if you haven't noticed, one your people, another renegade I might add, has altered a historical event on your self proclaimed favorite planet, and you call it a minor blip?"

"Control your emotions, Tegan, "the Doctor abashed. "We will discover what happened. It's all a matter of time." He shifted onto his right heel and exited the TARDIS, leaving a surprised Tegan Jovanka.

She turned and looked at Turlough, who turned suddenly, thinking he saw something interesting to look at on the view screen.

She pivoted and walked back towards the corridor. Turlough moved over to the Doctor. "So why bring up the Magna Carta," he asked. "If what you say is true, that Harrison altered something minor, what does it have to do with that historical event."

The Doctor thought for a moment, and idly played his hand through his blond hair. "Everything is significant, Turlough. Whether it's the signing of the Magna Carta or..." he stopped, as frustration filled his face. He turned away, once more thinking of Adric. It was his curiosity that got the boy in trouble. He was just a child, really. Like a child, when he found something that peeked his interest, he never figured in the possible problems that might arise from his inquisitiveness. Adric took things at face value, at times. It seemed that the boy just hated to second guess himself. The Doctor hated second-guessing himself, as well. Still, he knew that Adric would never give up. for Adric, there was no problem that could not be eventually solved. Just look at all the calculations he figured out in his head, just trying to locate a CVE, a totally random event. While the Doctor thought that discovering what was altered would be like trying to discover the cure for the virus that killed Harit, Adric would've taken on the job, knowing that there was a solution to every mathematical problem.

The Doctor looked over at Turlough. "I think we have to look at this problem in a new way."

"What do you mean?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but paused. Turlough just stood his ground, his mind racing with ideas and how to excuse himself from the Doctor so he could get some food. All of a sudden, he was hungry.

The Doctor moved over to the main console, and looked at the computer screen, and watched the screen saver program display little fishes eat other little fishes. He touched the keypad, and the program vanished, replaced by the normal blue, white screen. Ready for input.

"The TARDIS picked up a flutter in the imaging array, " Turlough informed the Doctor. "it indicated a fluctuation within the continuum. Could we trace this wave back to its point of origin?"

The Doctor spoke, but didn't look up from the screen, "We already know when Harit arrived."

"We do?"

"In general," the Time Lord amended. "Still, it would be nice if we knew exactly when he arrived, and knew exactly what he altered."

"As Tegan said, dead men tell no tales."

The Doctor turned to the young man. His blue eyes starred deep into his even bluer eyes. Turlough was cold, self absorbed, spoiled alien. But, much to the Doctors disapproving stare, he had a point.

"What do you suggest?"

Turlough turned and looked at the skyline of Chicago on the view screen. He rubbed his hands together, drawing a little heat into his suddenly cold fingers. "What do I suggest?" his voice was soft, yet had a commanding tone that the Doctor had never heard before. He turned back to the Time Lord. "I suggest we go back in time, and see what we can see."

"Taking the TARDIS back is fine, but we still don't know what we're looking for. And we are not sure Harit looks the same."

"I thought Time Lords regenerated at only times of crisis."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Some do. Some, like the Master, had the ability to regenerate at will. If Barusa sent Harit here, it is a good chance Harits appearance was altered. Either by will, or by the Barusa, or by the trip that got him there."

"Doctor, your splitting hairs, if I got the colloquialism right. Even if he has regenerated, you have said that a Time Lord knows when he sees another Time Lord."

"I've been fooled before," he admitted softly. 

"Sir Giles Estram?" the boy asked.

The Doctor looked over at him. "Yes. The Master use of the disguise and the name change fooled me, yet again. Can you wonder why I want to have all the facts before I commit myself to jumping back in time."

Turlough slumped his shoulders. Minor or major, he would have to sift through all the information he had, and discover just what was altered.

3

Hollis Gleason sat on the big couch by the window, with the head of Caleb in her lap. She idly stroked his head, feeling the roughness of his cropped hair. 

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was calm and even. It had been many hours since he last slept. He would need the rest, for in a few hours, the final step in Harrison's long slide into death would be taking place: the funeral.

A cool breeze blew in from the open window behind her, and the blinds made an irritating clapping sound as the bumped up against the sill. She looked around the apartment, sensing how everything remained the same, yet now looked different. It was as if with Harrison's death, the whole place seemed to be askew. But what was out of place, beyond Harrison not being here, was beyond her perception. It was like coming into a familiar room, and knowing that something was out of place, but some how, not able to figure what it was.

She looked down a Caleb, and her heart cried out in pain for his loss. She moved her hand to his bare chest, and glided her fingers over the fine hair that covered it. She had always liked his body, the well-defined pectorals, and the flat stomach. She also hated it, because he was one of those people who didn't need to work out for that shape. It just came natural to them.

She looked past the shorts he was wearing, to his strong, and very hairy, legs, and then onto to his bare feet which she so admired. What to do?, she thought. How can I help him? Why am I so in love with him?

She closed her eyes and laid her head back, and let out a small whimper. She remembered the first time they met, back in the bookstore two years before. He was this charming, silly guy who could find the humor in anything. Almost from day one, she fell in love with him. She wrestled with the idea that it was just puppy love, and not true, deep-seated, I'll give up my life for you, type of love. This train of thought only lasted about six months, when she realized that she was madly, deeply, truly in love with him.

The hardest part of it all, was she knew he was gay. She even had spent some time

with Harrison before they spilt up. She had seen several of the other guys that Caleb was seeing after the break up. She just couldn't convince herself to admit the truth.

When Caleb had finally told Hollis why he and Harrison had broke up, she wanted to throw her arms around him, and comfort him forever. It was then she finally told him of how she felt.

He had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. "What do you mean you love me?"

Hollis lowered her eyes for a moment, thinking it was all a mistake. But now that she had spoken the words, there was no going back. "It's true. I love you. I want to be with you."

A slight smile crossed over Caleb's lips. This had been the first for him. All through his life, he had struggled with these feelings he had. He had tried to have a girlfriend when he was 14, but found, while he liked the girl, he didn't like her in _that_ way. It was when he realized that he lusting for the quarterback on the Football team, and not the bouncing cheerleaders, did he finally except who he was. Still, in all those years, and the many that had followed, no one really had said those words to him out loud.

Even Harrison.

Now, his best friend had said those three words to him. He had to admit, it surprised him. He even said that to her.

Hollis shrugged. "I guess I never really let it slip, but you had to know that there was something more between us than friendship."

"Well, that is true, but I never thought of you in that way. I always thought of you as my sounding board, the one person I could bounce off my wild ideas. You did so much for me over these last few months."

"What do you mean?"

He reached over and grabbed her hand. "Once upon a time, my old self esteem was in the privy, and after you started working a the bookstore, you seemed to give me the strength to go on."

"I thought Harrison gave you all that."

"Yes, to some extent, he did." He paused a moment, and let his words fall in the right place. "Think of this way, Harrison came into my life when I needed him most. I was this 26 year old queer boy who couldn't get a man even to look at him, less even consider one as a longtime companion. For that's what I was looking for. I was 26, and I wanted to settle down. When I met him at the that goofy little party, I tried to resist all those feelings."

"Didn't it take a month for you two to actually get together?" 

"Yes, but like always, I knew if I saw him again, we would never get beyond hello."

Hollis smiled slightly. She suddenly thought of her brother Scott. It was something he always used to say. He never felt he was good looking enough, never felt he would ever fall in love, because he was clumsy and unsure of himself. Hollis often blamed Scott's unease on their mother. For Margaret Gleason seemed to be a bitter woman, hurt by the world somehow. Or by her own father. Hollis' grandfather seemed like a nice man, but he had a mean streak in him, and it seems his daughter inherited it. She had the capability to make anyone feel lower than she did. She could plant a seed of doubt as quickly as a farmer plows his field. Hollis also believed that her mother hated her for arriving so late in her life.

She was the last of four children, and more or less an accident. Both her parents had stopped having sex after Scott was born eight years before. Their relationship, which had been strong, up until her mother got pregnant, seemed to vanish overnight. Something had happened during those preceding nine months that seemed to change the structure of the whole family .They were separated before Scott's birth, but had never went through the process of a divorce. Scott would tell her years later, of how bizarre their relationship got as the years passed. For they seemed to go out their way to hurt each other, but would sometimes act like to love sick teenagers and spend hours alone with each other. For him, Scott could never understand why they never officially divorced. They just seemed to like to be separated. They chose to live only a few miles from each other, and would visit often. Scott and his two older siblings guessed that a divorce might actually destroy their lives.

So it was a big surprise that eight years later, her Mother became pregnant with Hollis. During the next eighteen years, she would see very little of both her parents. Her mother was Professor at Northwestern, while her Father was a busy executive of financial institution. So, it was up to Scott, and the older brothers to take care of her. 

Hollis knew she loved Scott more than her two older brothers, but that still didn't mean she loved them less. Scott just held a different place in her heart. It was one reason why she excepted his homosexuality better than her parents or her older brothers. Scott had often said that Hollis knew long before he did. On her defense, she would say, she knew her brother was different. She could see it in his eyes, and in his nature. He had a compassion that seemed to escape both her parents and older siblings. She had it too, but she assumed she learned it from Scott. To this day, she is convinced that Scott and her came from different parents.

She opened her eyes at Caleb's sudden movement. He was still asleep, and she could tell by the way his eyes moved, he was dreaming. She wondered what was going on in his mind. Was he dreaming of Harrison. Or Harit.

Caleb had told her about his feelings that his lover was not from this world. A year earlier, just after Harrison had ordered Caleb out of his life, he told her about all the things he knew about man. She didn't believe a word of it, at least that what she told herself. But over the last year, she spent more time with Harrison, and began to see things him that made her question what Caleb had said. Now with the arrival of this Doctor and his companions, it seemed there might have been some shred of truth in Caleb's tale of Earth Girls Are Easy.

Gently, she lifted his head off her lap, and placed on a pillow. He groaned and moved a bit, but failed to come fully awake. She stood up and stretched her fatigued body and then went towards the back room where Harrison had left all his books. She sat on the chair and turned on the small antique lamp that sat on a very old cedar chest that Caleb inherited from his grandmother. The light was soft, and only threw a small pool of brightness that was just enough for her purpose, and wouldn't bother the sleeping Caleb.

Picking up a slim volume on the Great Chicago Fire, she set about trying to learn something about this alien.

4

Cameron had spent the better part of the next day trying to find who this mysterious man was.

Sunday, October 1st had broke clear and warm. A stiff, south breeze blew, raising the dry dirt. For the first time in ages, the streets of Chicago were dry, and hard. The City was known for its muddy streets during winter and early spring. One notorious story had a traveler who is discovered buried up to his neck in this ocean of mire. Onlookers, who had come to help him, heard him say not to worry, for he was riding his horse.

Over the years, effort was made to alleviate this problem, but the truth of the matter was that by 1871 only 70 of the 530 miles of streets within the city limits had been paved, with 15 miles of them covered in cobblestones or macadam. The rest were distributed with pine blocks, giving the impression that the roads were covered in brick. Which most people wished, as the spring thaws and late summer rainstorms often made travel through the city a laborious task.

As he stood on the wooden sidewalk, some feet above the street, he surveyed his city, still filled with awe at all it accomplishments in so few short of years, with its majestic buildings that graced the center of town. And yet, it also filled him with an unsettling feeling that something was changing. 

He couldn't place his fingers on what was happening; yet this stranger he had run into had occupied his thoughts like bee bouncing against a window. Why, he wondered. It was just an unfortunate soul who had not grown with the city. Once again, he was reminded of Conley's Patch. 

He looked at his pocket watch and wondered if he had enough time to get a bite to eat before meeting up with George Francis Train, who was arriving on the morning locomotive from New York. Train was a friend of someone high up at the Tribune, and his editor had asked him, as a favor, if he you pick him up. At first he wanted to back out of it, knowing who Train was, but finally capitulated when he could not come up with a clever reason as to why not to meet him.

Cameron pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket. On the back was the brief description of the man he ran into yesterday, but on the front was an advertisement for a speaking engagement of Train, who was to appear at Farwell Hall on October 7. Train it seemed, was a well-known world traveler and author, who spoke mostly of moral attitudes. He was well known in the South, the bastion of religious ponderousness. Since the end of the Civil War, many leaders in the religion had gone on many travels to the North, to save the souls of "lost" people. Chicago's growth, it appeared, also equaled depravity. So, Train and his followers would gather to tell a city to come back to its moral center and to God.

While Cameron had no real opinion on God, he disliked people like Train. Like some of Chicago's most ethical leaders, some of these people had so many dark secrets; it would shame a lady of the night.

Cameron finally began walking towards the train station; his mind racing over the impending arrival of a man he knew he'd dislike and the man who was stirring feelings in him that made him very uncomfortable.

Then there was Joshua. After Cameron had seen the mysterious man again under his terrace, he became moody. Joshua had asked what was wrong, for he could always sense when people were upset. It was one of many things that made Cam love him even more. He could turn around anyone's mood. But this time, last evening, Cam 's would could not or he would not, let it change. They had an argument, and while Cameron could not remember how it started, he knows how it ended, with him telling Joshua to go to New York

(see if I care). 

Joshua had stood there, framed in the doorway to the terrace, once again the sheer drapes fluttering in the evening breeze. His eyes had become saucers, and his mouth-hung open is surprise. Never, in all those years, had Cameron ever raised his voice to him, and never in such a contemptible way. Hurt, and confused, Joshua left the apartment. Cameron tried to stop him, but he realized he had said the wrong thing. 

When Cameron woke up, he realized Joshua had never come home. He lay in their bed, his hand on Joshua's pillow. He wanted to cry out, to yell to him that he was sorry. But, like his own father, all that appeared to be left, was a ghost of what once was and never will be again. 

Then he remembered his task and got up. As he cleaned himself and dressed, he sensed that someone had been in the apartment since Joshua left. It took him only a few moments to realize that it must've been the boy himself. Cam had noticed a few articles of clothing were gone and saw his letter that his brother gave him from his mother laying on the floor, discarded.

He picked up the letter, and folded it back up. He stuffed it back into its envelope and finished dressing. At the moment, he did not know if he would see Joshua again. And while that hung over him like stale perfume, he had to put those thoughts away. He had a job to do, plus he had to find a mysterious stranger.

* * *

It was nearly 1 PM when Cameron finally got to the Tribune. His time with Train had not proven all that eventful, for he just let the strange little man ramble on. Forced almost, Cameron had joined him for an early lunch. Sitting in the restaurant, Train prattled on about how the city was doomed (he had mentioned several times how the fires that had been breaking out were really God's punishment for all the depravity that was going on through out the states). Cameron smiled and nodded his head and ate. While he had to agree that the city did seem to be in danger of burning, he never concluded to Train that it had anything to do with places like Conley's Patch. 

He went to his desk and sat down. The offices of the Tribune were located on the west side of Dearborn Street at Madison. It's a big, five-story structure, with their press machines in the basement. Offices and a library made up the first floor, with a composing room located on the fifth. It had been built two years ago, for a hefty cost of a quarter of million dollars. Published by Joseph Medill, the Tribune had grown in popularity during the Civil War. It had published many articles on the war, and many found that they could get reliable and unflinching look at the conflicts of the time. It was now one of the most influential newspapers in the city.

It was an airy place to work. It had pleasant cross breeze ventilation and seldom became too warm to work. Only the smell of the ink and paper could drive someone to distraction. He reviewed some of his messages that he gotten, though he had no secretary. He often question Robert Jones, his editor, how they came to be on his desk. But, Mr. Jones just threw his hands up and muttered something about the young kids of today.

He hastily scanned the messages, shuttling the six or seven notes into a pile on his desk. Most of the messages were from people who had to see him about what other people were doing. It seemed a lot of Chicagoians were very interested in what everyone else did. Maybe Train had a point. Didn't one of those Ten Commandments say something about not coveting anything of your neighbors? As a reporter, and one with growing popularity, he was always being asked to investigate acquaintances and friends. Most of these stories were nothing. People just jealous of what others have. Still, on occasion, one of those stories would pan out. Like the one that involved questionable practices at a lumber factory his father had invested in. 

Something suddenly caught his eye, and he quickly went back to that one message. It was a brief police report -he had a source at the police station who passed on some of the more unusual activities to him. He had forgotten about the message he had sent to his secret expert. He scanned the note, and his face lit up. It told of a stranger, matching the description Cameron had given. It was about a man who had escaped police custody but had been recaptured hours after the incident at his apartment. His first smile of the day crept over his face. Shoving the paper in his pocket, Cam made his way out of the Tribune building and towards some answers he hoped that could make his life much easier.

5

Tegan Jovanka had decided that if she couldn't beat the heat, she would join it. 

As the Doctor and Turlough argued over timelines, alternate realities, paradoxes and other fifth dimensional gobbly-gook, she changed into a bathing suit and with some directions from a very nice and very handsome police officer, she made her way to Oak Street Beach. 

As she sat in a beach chair, she marveled at the future. Every time she arrived in Earth's future, especially an unfolding time that, in theory she would be a part of, she tried to ignore what she saw. The reason being was she knew that when she departs the TARDIS crew (whether it was next week or next year) she would leave at almost the same time she left. On the other hand, she reflected there was way too many questions asked her when she did return to London in the winter of 1982. Mostly, where the hell had she been and how could she leave at such a tragic time. It appeared the unusual death of Aunt Vanessa had caused quite a stir.

She remembers telling her family and the police about being abducted and forced to travel with the killers of her Aunt. It was so Patti Hearst, she thought. The only problem with the story was everyone continued to ask her questions. Even when she got her job with Virgin Airlines, she was still asked about the missing period of her life. She would smile, and try to explain, but she learned eventually to claim that it was all a terrible time in her life, and she wanted to forget it. 

Eventually, her wanderlust got the best of her. In early 1983 she was sacked from her job. Angry at first, she sulked around her flat before getting a call from Colin to meet him and Robin in Amsterdam. The rest, as they say, is history. 

By her calculations, it was late 1983 for her, but as she looked out at Lake Michigan, it was summer 2001. A whole new millenium had begun, with sights and sounds that could boggle the mind. Should she stay in this time or return to 1983? What would be the consequences of reappearing after nearly 20 years? The one fun part about arriving in a time that spanned your own life, was to look up friends and relatives and see how they've gotten on. Of course, she had just a few family members living back in 1983, but it would be nice to see if it has grown.

This was when the Doctors voice would invade her thoughts. He would often say that she should ignore what she sees, because this could impact her future when she returned to her own time. She would argue that there was no way anything she saw in Earth's future could effect how she would live. Of course, she had some inkling about this disease that was ravaging the planet. But because it impacted her so little, she ignored a lot of the news reports. Which was ironic, considering she worked in an industry that had a lot of gay men. The Doctor thought her naïve, and maybe he had a point.

Picking up some sand, she tossed it in the air, and watched the wind pick it up and settle it down at a new location. Like the sand, she herself always felt like a shifting dune. She was sure that this nomadic lifestyle would eventually pass and she would settle down with a house, a husband and 2.5 children. But now, at age 21 with a whole universe literally before her, submerging herself in such a lifestyle was far from ever going to happen.

Her thought migrated to what was happening now. She really did not know how feel about all this time stuff. For the first time since she wandered in, the issue of alternate universes, and such had reared its head. Why was this suddenly all coming up? Where had she been since joining the TARDIS crew? Lets see, she thought raising her right hand to count on her fingers from Earth 1981 to 1666 to 1925 to 1982 to 1977. On too her left she started with 1983 to 1215 (she couldn't even calculate what time period Gallifrey existed in) to 2001. 

She jammed her hands, suddenly, into the sand; frustration pumping through her body like hot tea. Time, she thought. This was not a time to discuss time. 

Of course, she was wrong.

6

When he was a child, one of the things Caleb Parker remembered was that he could spend hours playing by himself. He became a loner at a young age; something he continued most of his adult life. Even after he met and stayed with Harrison, he took much pleasure in being alone. 

But most of his childhood had vanished down a dark pit, just like the white rabbit in Lewis Carroll's story about a girl named Alice. His memories of that time were mixed. He had often told Harrison that most of his childhood memories came from his mother and their extended family. It appeared that the death of his father at age five had sent him spinning out of control. Only later, when much water had passed under many bridges, and many blue moon's had come and gone, did he learn of his odd, and really bizarre behavior. He was told that when he spent time in school, anytime the teacher left the room, he would scramble into a corner or the washroom and hide, afraid that they would never return like his father. He also easily attached himself to other people, in particular his Aunt. She was married to his mother's brother, and for some reason, Caleb found her more comforting than his own mother. Caleb could never put into words how he felt about her, accept that maybe she would save him from the cruelty of his Uncle and Grandfather. Or, because she had two girls, maybe he was giving her the opportunity she would never have until her grandson was born decades later. Or maybe she knew he was different for all the other kids. He certainly was more emotional than any other man within the family was, and she seemed to enjoy that.

And it wasn't like he hated his grandfather. It was just he never really new who he was. A few years ago, on one of his rare visits with his mother, she showed him some old photos of his grandfather and his grandmother before they were married -images that even she had never seen. She showed him a love letter that her Father had written her Mother in the years before they wed. It was amazing, for it demonstrated to Caleb that his grandfather -at least before he was married- was able to write with great emotion. Why he hid that for all the years he had known him, he was unsure. Even Caleb's mother was surprised; saying that she too never knew her father could be so passionate. They had such a tenuous relationship and she admitted years later -over both her parents' graves- that she never felt his loss as with her Mothers.

Now he had to face a loss without his family support. But it wasn't because they could not, it was just they all lived out of state. And he never bothered to call them. He was aware that his mother disliked Harrison, but he could never figure what it was that drove her crazy. While at times his mother voiced her opinion whether you wanted to hear or not, she decided that her conclusion's about the man her son loved would never be mouthed. 

In the bedroom they had shared for so many years, Caleb Parker sat in the chair that faced the bed. After Hollis had departed an hour or so ago, he had showered and decided he needed to get to the funeral home and conclude all the arrangements. Hollis and Big Bob were going to meet him there.

But that was another three hours from now. At this moment he wanted to be alone and try to piece all his thoughts together. The last 48 hours had proven the most bizarre. From Harrison calling him after a 6 months silence, his passionate plea for Caleb to be at Mom's and his meeting with an alien who could help him reverse his lover's errors. And then Harrison's death to a surreal conversation about time travel. 

Only later, after the Doctor and his companions had left and Hollis had maneuvered her way into staying the night, had Caleb got a chance to understand what was going on. 

Time travel. 

It was so Star Trek. What was the old theory they proposed in that movie with the wales? Their stolen ship went into warp by using the gravity of the sun, sling shooting them into time travel mode. Was it possible? 

Caleb, having no science background beyond watching his favorite sci fi TV series like Star Trek, knew that time machines were impossible to exist. But he also knew that time travel was not against the laws of physics. It was just not a reality, as of yet.

As he sat in his favorite chair that was once his grandfather's, Caleb shook his head and tried to sort this time travel stuff out his head. His eyes came to rest on a picture of an old friend, a childhood friend who had vanished from his life like the dinosaurs. For a moment, he wondered why he kept the picture, let alone display it. But the moment passed, because he knew why he kept the picture. Max was his name, and as long as Cameron could remember, he was madly in love with him.

But, it took him years to know that. They had been childhood friends, living only a half block from each other. Max was tall, a lanky with dark brown, wavy hair. He wasn't athletic, but was into many sports. Both playing them and watching them. A while they never really had the same interests, they could spend hours together doing whatever. They both appeared to need each other. Caleb's father was dead, and Max's Dad was one those typical males that showed no emotional depth what so ever. Caleb began to think that the reason they hung around each other was because they gave each other emotional support. And then physical support. And some where in their friendship, and even Caleb is not sure when it started, they became romantically involved. Perhaps it was mutual causes, in the sense that his parents were strict as was Caleb's mother. Perhaps they were drawn together because there was a missing link in their relationships with their parents. Or it was just a need to feel loved.

When his parents divorced a few years later, Max moved with his Mother to Texas. They would write each other, and Caleb would treasure those letters, reading them many times over, and keeping them for years. A few years passed, and Max returned to area. It seemed he was going through his teenage rebel years, and Mom was not putting up with it (she started her own business, and became very successful. She even remarried), so Max came home to live with his father. They both restarted their relationship, but Caleb noticed that Max was becoming increasingly unsure about where things were going. He started to have a string of girl friends. And the girls he did go out with usually came from well to do families. Caleb often thought that because Max had little money, these girls, with Mommy and Daddy's money, would pay for the many things his own father could not give him.

During the later half of their teenage years, they both grew distant from each other. For Caleb, it was the understanding of who he was, and for Max, maybe it was he knew what he might be. It was that unspoken issue that seemed to drive a stake through their friendship. That and the fact Max had joined the army, for a four-year tour. 

If there could be one defining moment in their relationship, it had to start there. From then on, they had little physical contact. It became an unspoken part of their friendship. They could hangout together, but no sex. It was like a child who finally decided that they were done playing with their toys and it was time to grow up. Time to put away childhood crushes. Time to act like an adult.

When he packed up and moved to southern California, their friendship did come to an end. They still kept in contact, but it was like they were strangers in a crowed room full of family. Caleb followed him to San Francisco a year later, when he called offering a great job and a fantastic place to live. Caleb was like a giddy schoolgirl, hoping against hope, that things could return to the way they were.

But they were dashed, just like the San Francisco Bay does to the Rock. Bashing its hard rock walls with cold, and bitter seawater. 

So, Caleb started to hate him, tried to hate him. He made comments on how he walked, how he talked, how he ran this business as manager of a local movie theater complex. Eventually, tired of all the problems, Max gave up and decided to study sports medicine back in Chicago. He moved, leaving Caleb to defend for himself, until 6 months later, he too returned home. But the would see little of each other. And by now, Caleb was accepting that he was gay and when he finally told Max a few years ago, that revelation opened a gap bigger than when Moses parted the Red Sea in the campy Ten Commandments movie.

About a year ago, in a revaluation of his life, Caleb finally discovered that Max was his first love. And his anger at Max's departure from his life was based on that fact. But, Max could not accept that he Caleb loved him. He was involved with a school doing sports medicine (Caleb had visited the facility, and was convinced then, as he is now, that this was Max hiding in plain sight) and was seeing this girl. Max had told Caleb he was going to marry her. And as far as Caleb knows, he did. He was not invited, for Max felt his boyhood friend might make a scene. 

Love is a bitch, all right.

The phone rang, startling Caleb from his drowsy memories. He grabbed the cordless. It was Big Bob, and he was asking if he could do anything? Caleb got up from his chair and walked around the apartment, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. He wanted to say yes, how about bringing my love back? Then he decided that might not be a good idea. What he didn't need was people descending on him, thinking he might be suicidal. Thanking him, he said no. Then Bob had asked what time he should pick him up. Caleb looked at the kitchen clock, and noticed that cat tail pendulum had stopped moving. The clock had stopped at 2:45, on or about, the time of Harrison's death. 

Caleb's heart began to pound in his chest, fluttering against his ribcage like a bird. He told Big Bob to call back in an hour, and he'll tell him when to pick him up. Quickly punching the off button on the phone, Caleb walked over to the wall, and to the black cat clock. He hated the thing, but Harrison loved it. For the life of him, he could never understand why, but he liked it. 

The battery must have died reasoned Parker. But it was odd that it stopped then. Wasn't? He took the clock off the wall, and turned it over. There was no batteries in the slot were there should be. As a matter of fact, there was no inner working at all. It was smooth as a go-go boy's chest. He dropped the clock, and it smashed onto the floor, scattering pieces in every direction.

He stepped back, feeling as if the room was spinning. He stepped on the pendulum tail of the clock and he nearly toppled over. He regained his footing, before he fell. He backed out of the kitchen, as if the walls were slowly peeling away from the frame of the apartment. He turned and ran down the hall, his towel fluttering to the floor like a bird with its wings clipped. He reached the bathroom and doubled over as he threw up into the toilet. Nothing much came out, because he had not really eaten in two days. As he dry heaved into the bowel, tears welled into his eyes.

As moments passed, and his sickness feeling had passed, he lowered himself to the cool floor. There he lay there, naked, on the floor. His breath grew ragged and he suddenly did not want to be here anymore. He suddenly felt the need to escape, to leave this empty house. To escape all this death.

He needed to find the Doctor.


End file.
